


Reduced to Dust

by Bates



Series: Otp fic-a-month challenge 2015 [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU - All Human, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anorexia, Blood, Coma, Depression, ER nurse Gabriel, Eating Disorders, F/F, FTM Sam, Hospital, M/M, Purging, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Transgender, Wounds, college dropout Sam, destructive thoughts, dysphoria mention, er - Freeform, fear of gaining weight, inspired by wintergirls, mentions of binging, mentions of purging, mentions of scars, wish to die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-04-27 21:06:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5064148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bates/pseuds/Bates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester thinks that he is broken, nothing but a waste of space. He failed being himself, failed college and now, by not trusting anyone anymore, he's failed the world too. He's failed being a good daughter and a good sister. He's broken, shattered and most of all, he just wants it all to go away, he wants to disappear. Disappear is what he can go, as he shrinks the world will forget about him, people won't remember him. He'll be gone. It's all he wants, it's all he needs.</p><p>After an unsuccessful suicide attempt, Sam ends up at the ER and in a coma. As his coma progresses, Gabriel realizes more and more how broken his best friend is and how he doesn't care if Sam thinks that his family won't want to see him like this. He makes it his mission to bring them together again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Again, one of my catch up pieces of writing. This was the otpficamonth prompt for September, namely School. ( ~~I really am behind on a lot of these jfc.~~. You'll probably notice that I used the prompt relatively loosely here, but one of Sam's main struggles is the way that he struggles with having to drop out of university. He feels like he has failed the only thing that he was good at. This will pop up for the first time in this chapter and later in the fic.
> 
> I do need to stress that this fic can be incredibly triggering for anyone. Sam Winchester is an trans guy, he suffers from disordered eating that would (according to me - it is what I am going for at least) fall in the anorexia category, self harms, has a very disordered and self destructive thought pattern. With this comes his suicide attempt and the depression. This suicide attempt lands him in the hospital and renders him unconscious for longer period, after which he's admitted.  
> A lot of this is either referred to or portrayed in a graphic way. Especially the eating and depression. Please, if this is one of your quirks or triggers stay way from this fic. Stay safe.  
> ( _Should you feel like I forgot to tag something or there is something that I should tag, please do tell me._ )
> 
> This fic was mainly inspired by the book [Wintergirls](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/5152478-wintergirls?ac=1&from_search=1) written by Laurie Halse Anderson. If you want a recommendation on a book concerning eating disorders, this book would be a recommendation. Please take care however, as it is a triggering book.

_ _

_"I am spinning the silk threads of my story, weaving the fabric of my world. The tiny elf dancer became a wooden doll whose strings were jerked by people not paying attention. I spun out of control_

_Eating was hard. Breathing was hard._ Living was hardest _."_

 

**WINTERGIRLS // LAURIE HALSE ANDERSON**

 

** **

 

//  _Let the words hollow out rivers in your bones until you feel like the structure you walk on_

_is too weak to set another step. Let people tell you who to be and who you can't be until you feel concave_

_and each breath feels like you're breathing someone else’s air._  //

 

His hands were trembling against his thighs. The skin was bruised and sensitive from the previous night, an angry red laced with the dark yellow of aging bruises of before. Even walking around hurt some days, but it was one of the only ways that he knew how to cope. His skin was sensitive as it was, it wasn’t hard for him to get bruises. He always looked like he'd stepped out of a car wreck as it was.

It had taken him a while to figure out where all those emotions were coming from, what was eating at his heart. He figured it out with a crash and a bang, when it had seemed as if the world stopped. The loss of Brady had come with heaviness and black spots at the edges of his vision because he couldn’t breathed. It seemed to be ages ago since he’d been left, but he still couldn’t quite grasp it. It was too soon, too recent, too raw.

The words felt like knives that carved paths and rivers along his skin, set it on fire. His body created the ups and downs from a nature landscape and the cuts were the forest fires. It had been the way that he’d said the words, the way he’d said goodbye to him. His words hurt more than Sam wanted to admit. Sam was a guy, he had his pride. It had been hurt in the way that he broke him.

His pride had been hurt more than once. The whole idea of that pride had been obliterated when he’d drunk dialed Brady with a lisp in his tongue begging him to come back. He wasn’t one too beg, but after too many shots of whiskey, it didn’t matter anymore. He promised Brady things that he could never do, promised him more than he could or ever was willing to do and it was bad. Sam barely remembered the aftermath of the phone call, but that morning the bandages were a bright red and his hips were tender. Just the friction of his boxers against the cuts too much.

There was pain, and it was good. It was breathing again after being underwater. It wasn’t the way to go, he knew that, but it was the only way he knew. It cleared his thoughts of the pain and doubt, wrongness that seemed to settle in every corner of his mind. It was redemption in a way. He was still in control.

 

_// Hey Sammy, are you okay? Are you in there? You’ve been in the bathroom for a very long time._

_Are you sure that you are okay? Do you need me to get you something? //_

_In and out. Just breathe Sam, just breathe._ He told himself the words over and over again until they reverberated in his skull. The cold tile left him shivering, but that was good. It was only five degrees Celsius out and it felt like it was colder, like it had finally dipped below zero out. In all prospects and realistically speaking, he should feel a little bit warmer. His body had thrown all functions regarding the regulation of his body.

It was okay. He honestly didn’t care about it all that much. Shivering burns calories and less calories means less weight and less curves. It distracted him in a way that didn’t leave any marks, that didn’t leave any visible reminders for people to stare at him. It didn’t show him that he was a failure like everybody thought that he was.

Sam had dropped out of college, had given up like the loser he was. He had given up and he was left alone. Sure, he still had Jessica and he still rented the apartment, but in essence, he was alone. The experience of going there had changed him in more ways than one and of most of them, he couldn’t be any less prouder. It had allowed him to be more open, get his binders and do what he couldn’t do in the confining Winchester household, he could be himself.

His mother loved him, he knew that, but just the thought of coming out with something made him feel sick to his stomach and his head spin.

He just couldn’t. He couldn’t do it.

_// Sam. Please, answer me. //_

 

At first, the scars had been faint and barely visible. He could still tell people that they were because of something else. He could tell people that he’d slipped shaving when he still wore dresses. At first, it was telling people that he’d bumped into the kitchen table when they saw the bruises at the top of his hips. Later, it was telling people that the marks on his hands were the result of a cat - that he didn’t own - whose claws were too bloody sharp. They later turned into rivers of blood slivering slowly down his skin and staining the paper tissue a dull red that dried copper.

He had never been good at pretending to be anything, yet this was pretending and often failing without people really noticing just how much of a show he was putting up. Hiding the scars and tears and fucked up mind in smiles and nods, it was in promising others that he was doing fine, that he was happy while he wasn’t. He was war from in fact.

It was nodding when people complimented him and biting back the bile at the back of his throat. The words were tiny bee stings and he was allergic. You’ve gotten so skinny Samantha! Which diet have you been following? Do you have a link for me, I need to try it! Just the words made him want to snap. Worst was that they didn’t leave, that they reverberated late into the night when he was alone.

His body felt like nothing but the construction housing the soul of a thousand year old man on the frame of a female porcelain doll. The soul was tired. He was nothing but a robot running on blood, oxygen and gasoline. His existence was a fault in the earth’s code.

Pretending had drained him from so much energy that sometimes, even waking up felt like a battle. It would have been worth it maybe, if he had friends to wake up for. If he had any reason to get out of bed except for his job. Sure, he had friends, but none of them knew the extent of how he was feeling, what he was going through and what was eating at him.

Sure, Jessica was a sweetheart and she attempted to understand, made a valid effort in dealing with him. She did live with him in the same apartment so she kind of had to deal with him, Sam knew that. She attempted to help and that was important to him, even if it was futile.

Gabriel was a trickster and a joker, but he knew when to be serious. He had a baggage of family problems that helped him set everything in perspective. He partially knew what he went when Sam felt like in relation to his parents and Dean, why he didn’t want to tell them anything about him. In a way, he was the one who helped Sam the most, who looked out for him the most. He could help all he wanted and it wouldn’t be enough. Nothing that anyone ever did to help him could ever be enough.

 

_// How could you be enough Samantha? How could you ever be enough //_

 

He yelled at them to stop. He yelled and yelled until his mind felt like it would explode. It didn’t, never did. Instead, Sam splashed water in his face and stepped out, meeting the empty hallway that Jessica had left behind. It took him a while to actually get up and dressed, get ready for whatever he was going to do all day. He’d yelled back at Jess that he was fine, not to worry and she’d gone to her classes for the day. He should probably do some grocery shopping for them, clean up a little.

Sam didn’t quite remember when he’d been comfortable with eating, living and himself in general last. Food was nothing but fuel  for him now, not the thing that his brother seemed to enjoy so much. If he was an engine, he’d be an hybrid; a little bit went a very long way. He wouldn’t break down and shut down like an engine did when it didn’t have any more gasoline to pump around.

A little would go a very long way in fact. He had a timer on his phone, counting since the last time he ate. As time progressed, he felt a spark of pride seeing the number climb higher every second. Sam was strong enough not to eat anything for seven hours. Nine. Eleven and then seventeen. Twenty-four. Forty-eight.

Breaking that counter was a deliberate choice that he had to make, a sacrifice. It was something that he had to pull together all his strength for. Food was fuel, but he had to let the fuel run out completely in order to lose the curve, lose the weight, look like the person he was. Running out completely was dangerous territory, rewarding territory but dangerous territory. It meant that he couldn’t go on a grocery run by foot - or by car, it was even worse if he went by car - without having the danger of buying either the whole store or fainting because he couldn’t muster up the strength to carry the bags all the way to their apartment and up the three flights of stairs.

Going out on a grocery run meant that he had to fill the tank at least a little bit. At least, if he didn’t want to repeat the adventure of a few months before. He’d still been curvy and fat, feminine, but hadn’t eaten, not in a few days. It hadn’t even been because he was like this, because he was broken and fucked up, no, he’d just been sick. In the literal, physical kind that had him up until four am with violent throwing up. He hadn’t eaten and fainted in the supermarket. Jessica had been with him and - to his great embarrassment - called an ambulance. After a day of monitoring and fluids, he’d been discharged.

He doubted that it would happen now, that they’d let him go this easily. So yes, he had to fuel up, get something inside of him.

 

Sam was stronger now than he had been back then. His strength had come from dropping in both bmi, body fat and weight. The weight had dropped from telling him he was a worthless 145 pounds and told him that he was a slightly more promising 130 pounds and then, an failure at 115 pounds. He dipped under 110 and was now riding the 105. It was close to 95, closer to 88. His bmi dropped from twenty-two to twenty and cleaned his bones of some of the disgusting fat that clung to them. He was at sixteen now. Almost sixteen meant that he had tipped deeper under the underweight ration, that he was getting closer and closer to fifteen and fourteen. Danger territory. _Goals._

He had to continue dropping weight. He had to continue getting rid of all the disgusting fat under his disgusting bruised skin. At keast when he dropped he was getting stronger. At least when he dropped some of the weight it meant that he was at least good at this.

Sam failed living, he could at least master disappearing.

 

He munched on two or three cherry tomatoes while walking to the store, feet carrying him there on auto pilot almost. Jessica never seemed to have time to do the mundane things like this, like cleaning. She was always running back and forth, to class and back to their apartment to work on her sketches, back to class and a couple of hours later back to the apartment with a terrible headache and a painting to finish. He could count on one hand the times that she’d gone to bed before three am in the past week.

It meant that he was doing most of the housework - often done with Gabriel helping him out a little bit whenever the tiny trickster didn’t have work - and going out the most to get groceries, but he honestly couldn’t care a lot less. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do anyway. Ever since he’d dropped out, he’d been pretty much a useless waste of space.

Dean was the accomplished son. Even though Sam had shown most promise in high school, Dean was the one that did best at further education. He’d gone to college and gotten his degree, taught kids at the local high school all about engines and car mechanics. Sam was the fuck up of a daughter to them. Sam was the fuck up of a guy that didn’t even feel comfortable telling them something as his gender. He was still Mary’s little girl and John’s baby girl, Dean’s little sister that he had to look out for. Yet, he wasn’t. He wasn’t a girl and had never been one, but that didn’t stop them from thinking it. Only because of himself, because he was too much of a coward to open up to them, to tell them.

All Sam was good for was lugging around boxes filled with books to the shelves in trembling arms. He was nothing better than a stupid guy working at the local book store because he had no other options. He’d only taken the job because he had to help pay the rent and groceries, gas, all those things that came with living, but he was finding it more likable as time progressed.

His co-workers were nice and the work was satisfying in a way. His boss let him use the discount codes and whenever there was a book that he really wanted to try out, he was allowed to pick it off the shelf and read during his lunch break. It was where he and Gabriel had become friends. Gabe had gotten a chance of having a better paycheck and he’d taken it, which he really did deserve, but it was how their friendship had started.

 

 

By the time that Jessica came back from her last class of the day, dinner was already waiting for her. Sam had fallen into the habit of cooking her diner if he could. Sometimes he just forgot or lost track of time, felt too hungry weak to cook her dinner, to cut up the chicken without thinking that it could stray and hit him instead, cut him open and make him bleed, make him pay for how fucked up he was. Some days, it took strength just to put the food on the plate and cover it in foil to keep it warm. Today was a good day. It was easy for him to stir the tomato sauce and not want to taste. Today, he was strong.

Jessica looked drawn and exhausted when she entered the apartment, letting the keys clatter on the hallway table loudly. Everything sounded loud over the slow bubbling of the tomato sauce. Her bag hit the ground with a soft thud before she called her hello to him. Her scarf was laced with tiny snow flakes even though Sam hadn’t noticed the snow falling. It was no surprise, the temperatures had started dropping a long time ago. It was just a waiting game to see when it would start.

“Hey there,” he said from the store, pretending to be preoccupied with boiling the pasta. It was about done, but Jess was a tough client when it came to boiling times, so he let her taste before draining it. “How was class?”

“Terrible,” she sighed as she pulled one of his old sweaters over her head and hugged it closer to her. He’d gotten it with the sole thought of having an over sized sweater to snuggle up in whenever he wanted to shut out the world and seeing her do something similar made his heart warm just that little bit. “My professor decided that it was a good idea to hold us all captive for an extra half an hour. I could hardly leave halfway through his lecture, so I missed my bus back. Then it started snowing during my hour long wait.” She smiled at him when he passed her her food. “Thanks Sam. Getting half soaked because of the snow was not on my to do list for today.”

“Well, there’s pasta to warm you up, there’s extra on the stove if you want, it just got done.”

“Aren’t you eating?”

“Nah,” he said, “Gabriel took me out for food earlier. I’m going to go to my room, I’m not quite feeling good yet. You’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, of course, I’m clocking in soon as well. Do you want me to call Gabe back?” Jessica offered. “I know he’s not supposed to diagnose or anything but maybe he can tell you if it’ll clear up with rest or if we should go to a doctor.”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

 

Even though Sam was accustomed to it by now, he had never gotten a hang of properly lying. He was safe with Jessica, only because he was telling lies that were probable. She had no reason not to believe that Sam hadn’t driven over to the hospital to have a quick lunch with him before his shift started  - it was something that they had done a few times even if he told Gabe that he’d already eaten - or that Sam would go pick him up after his shift.

He had to be honest, Sam hadn’t seen Gabriel in a little while, maybe a week or two. They mainly talked over Facebook and exchanged a few text messages, but they hadn’t seen eye to eye in a while. Sam knew that he had some crazy shifts and that he barely even had the time to do anything that wasn’t related to work. That was the thing about working in the hospital - or more specifically in the ER - the hours weren’t those that most people liked.

It had surprised Sam at first, hearing that Gabriel had a nursing degree. It wasn’t surprising in the sense that he was bad with people or anything, it was just that Gabriel hadn’t really brought it up. Being an ER nurse suited him and actually explained some of the things that he knew a little bit too much about, or the way that Gabriel had almost automatically cleaned and bandaged a cut in his finger when Sam had cooked for him that one time.

Ever since Gabriel had changed jobs, Sam had started missing him a little bit more, but he’d also become worse. Worse because Gabe was the only one he called when he was having a bad day. Jessica didn’t quite understand him and she was already strung so tight with school. With Gabriel absent from his life, he was on his own.

Bad days were spend in the gym two houses down the road. At least at the gym he could burn calories and fats he hadn’t eaten yet. At least it didn’t make him feel like a complete and utter loser.

 

The all too familiar knifes slipped out from their hiding spot in the book case. Jessica sometimes cleaned his room as well and he couldn’t afford to have her find them. He couldn’t use the excuse that they were for shaving because he didn’t shave in general - he had no reason to.

The first blood felt like bliss and after wards, it was a haze. It numbed him, took himself out of his body. Far enough for himself not to realize as he dug deeper, as it bled more, as the world grew dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! ♥ If you want, you can find me on my (a little dead - I'm not that much into season 11 and people are excited so) [fandom tumblr](http://achillecas.tumblr.com) and [writing tumblr](http://stigmmata.tumblr.com). As almost always, I do have an [inspiration tag](http://stigmmata.tumblr.com/tagged/fic%3A-reduced-to-dust) so if you want to know what inspired this fic, you can check it out over there! There's a trigger warning for this tag however, there is blood, thinspiration, etc. in this tag. A soundtrack should be added to 8tracks ~~somewhere this weekend as well.~~. It is online! You can check it out right [here](http://8tracks.com/mercifulsammy/reduced-to-dust).
> 
> At this point in time, I do not have a posting schedule, but plan on attempting to post once a week or once every two weeks. University is keeping my rather busy and I do have other projects I'm working on. I'm sorry for that!


	2. Dark Hospital Hallways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, there is pretty explicit talk of Sam's cuts, the state that he is in. If talk of suicide, blood, cuts, hospitals/the emergency room, misgendering (in this chapter, Sam is admitted using his ID card, which still states him as female and under his birth name. He is referred to under the 'she/her' pronouns until Gabriel recognizes him) and overall issues bothers you/makes you uncomfortable/triggers you, I suggest skipping this chapter or at least skipping at least half of it.

 

_// the world is such a filthy place, Gabriel. The world is such a filthy horrible place and I don’t know why I still am here._

_I should have left, I should have left a very long time ago. There is no place for fuck ups here._

_And fuck, am I a fuck up. Nobody gives a shit about anyone that’s broken. //_

 

** **

Gabriel was _exhausted._ His shift had lasted way too long already and there was at least another hour to go. Some nights seemed to go on forever while others flew by, this was one of those that seemed to take forever. Gabe knew that it was just because the ER had been pretty calm all day. Without a lot of patients to focus on, hours didn't really go by quickly. When the ER was calm, it meant that there was nothing to do while waiting for new patients. He had little things to do, but cleaning up blood or having to change your gown because a kid puked all over you wasn’t quite high on the top of his ‘ _things I wanted to do today_ ’ list. Sleep was.

But sleep, he wasn’t getting anytime soon. It was okay, Gabriel didn’t mind the exhaustion or long days.  He had signed up to become a nurse and pursue his degree after all. It had been his choice. He hadn’t gone to school for a hellish long time just to hang his degree on the wall and be a clerk at a local book store for the rest of his days.

Puking kids, blood and crying people were everyday things for him and well, it was nothing that they couldn’t get clean – or burnt - Gabriel had to admit. Sleep could be caught up on in the few weekends that he was free. Slow days were part of the job and he had to deal with them like the grown ass man he was.

In truth, slow days meant that there would be some sort of emergency during the day and he was looking forward to it. Gabriel wasn’t a sadist, he didn’t want to see people in pain, he just wanted something to happen. Something good, to wake him up completely and offer up an end to the hours that dragged on and on and on.

 

He regretted thinking that exact thing the moment that head nurse Mosley called on him to assist. He’d half drifted out of the call that there was an emergency coming in, but snapped back to attention when she pulled him to the side with a stern look.

“Milton,” she said, sounding tired but stern, “we’ve got a suicide coming in. Roommate is coming with. We need you to assist while Harvelle goes to calm down the friend. We can switch the two of you around – Jo’s got experience with attempts but you haven’t. We’re offering you the chance to learn.”

“I’ll help,” he promised, right as the ambulance arrived. Ambulance staff raced the stretcher to its desired room. Mosely practically dragged him in the room with him, barking orders to the people that were loitering when they shouldn’t be. Mosely had given the orders clean and precise. Nineteen year old girl found in her room in the apartment she shared with her roommate, past of depression but not of suicidal tendencies. Cuts on arms, hips and legs. They had to start a blood transfer the second they confirmed her blood type. He followed the instructions on autopilot, never glancing up at the person until they had managed to stop the bleeding and keep the patient’s faint heartbeat there.

There were so many cuts to focus on. The ones on her arms were worst, but they weren’t the only ones. There were the inflamed ones on her hips peeking just above her boxer shorts and the new ones going down her legs. She was bleeding so much that it almost looked as if they’d slaughtered a pig in the room.

“Gabriel, I'l need you to go out and tell Jo that the girl pulled through when we're done. We going to move her up to a room and depending on when she regains consciousness, we’ll have a psych evaluation to see whether she needs to be in psychiatric.” Just from the frail wrists and hair, he knew that the girl would never agree to going to the floor. She looked so sick and thin. Her skin was grey and ashy, scarred on her legs and hips. Most of the scars that he saw on her wrists were greyed out, were starting to fade. 

It was a stark contrast with the new ones she’d made, angry and red, almost violent looking. They were deeper than the others had most likely been, skin sliced open and exposing some of what lies underneath. It was almost sickening to see, would still want to make him vomit if he wasn’t so concentrated on getting it all closed.

It was only after they had finished closing up the wounds that Gabriel looked away from the task at hand. Mosley had drawn his attention for something – something that he’d forgotten by now – and when his eyes raked up the body and over the face, he recognized him. All breath was punched from his lungs. There had always been people up at his head to help monitor oxygen and heartbeat, he hadn’t been able to see more than a jaw. Now he did see more. Now he recognized him.

He felt like throwing up, felt the panic rise in his body. He should have seen it before, Gabriel should have noticed that the body that he was working on was a familiar one. Even if it wasn’t quite the one that he was used to. Sam didn’t look like the Sam that he’d seen when they’d last met. He looked so much more tired, so much worse.

“Milton?” Mosley asked cautiously, as if something in his expression tipped him off. “If you need to step outside.” He just nodded, but swallowed away the bile that had risen in his throat. He wasn’t pathetic, even if that was Sam, he should be strong enough. He should be.

“I’m fine – I’ll go talk. Moseley?” He could hear the caution in his own voice. “That’s Sam Winchester, nineteen year old university drop out. I don’t know which name is on his ID card but he’s trans. Transgender. I, I know him, he’s a friend. Legally and medically he hadn’t started transitioning yet.” He shook his head. “I should have said something but I just recognized him.”

“Okay.” Mosely shook her head. “It’s okay. Go tell her- go tell his friend that he’s out of danger for now.”

 

Jessica was pacing back and forth in the waiting room, hands balled in fists at her sides. Her clothes were streaked with blood and it took him a minute, but he realized that it was _his_ blood that caked her fingers. He felt his stomach make an uneasy flip all over again.  It was pathetic, because he knew that his clothes had some traced of blood as well, that he didn't look an ounce better than she did. 

“Gabriel.” Jess sounded tired and worn, but there was surprised laced in there too. "How is he?"

His voice sounded as hollow as he felt. “The cuts were deep, but we managed to suture them and stop the bleeding. He’s going to pull through.” The relief flooded her face.

“I thought he was dead – he wasn’t moving, there was so much blood.” She was trembling on her legs, shaking now the adrenaline was ebbing away. “He was lying in so much blood Gabriel.” He guided her back to the seats behind them.

“What happened in the past month? I thought he was doing better.” Naive as it was, Gabriel truly thought that he was doing better. They hadn’t talked a lot but Sam sounded a little bit more cheerful in chat, he had seemed to be a little bit better when they had lunch. “He seemed to be better.”

“I thought so too. I don’t know. Maybe it’s the holidays coming up and him having to go home. I don’t know – I’ve been gone a lot with classes so he’s been alone.” She shook her head. “I should have seen.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Gabriel shook his head, passing her a cup of lousy hospital coffee. “They’re transporting him to a room soon and after that, it’s a waiting game. Have the Winchesters been called? Do you know?”

Jessica sighed. “I don’t know. I.. found a note, but it’s not for me so I don’t know what he’d want.” Her eyes were glaced over again. “It’s for you, actually. Still on the kitchen counter – I thought you weren’t working, I would have taken it with me I just. This is such a mess..”

“That’s alright. We’ll get to it when we can.” He swallowed back the lump in his throat. “It's okay. Why would you think that I wasn't working?" He frowned. "I've been working the night shift all month."

"Sam told me." She was frowning at him. "He said that you were off today and that you had lunch together?"

“He – what? We haven’t seen each other in at least two weeks. Until, well now. I’ll go talk to Mosely, see if I can call his brother and tell them. You, stay here? They’ll let you know the second that there is new information.”

 

The phone call with Dean was tense to say the least. Mosely had informed him that none of the family members had been called yet because Jessica had brought him in, but considering the fact that he knew Sam, perhaps he should call to let them know. They should have called the family first thing, but Jessica and Gabriel were his emergency contacts listed so they didn't. 

It was weird, because even though Gabriel didn’t know any of them, he still felt like he did with the way that Sam had been talking. He recognized the tone in Dean’s voice, could picture him in a way. Dean had been sleeping when Gabe called, had sounded sleepy and worn, tired. Hearing that his baby brother – sister as far as Dean knew – was in the hospital must have only made his day worse.

He’d almost barked at Gabriel as he inquired which hospital, how he was doing and promised to be there as soon as possible. The line went dead after Dean promised to call their parents with the news and it left Gabriel with a heavy heart. He didn’t know if it was his place to tell the Winchesters just how badly off their son was, how badly off Dean’s brother was, the brother and son they still saw as daughter and sister. What he did know, was that he wanted to be far away from the room when he saw just how much a year had changed him.

 

** **

 

 

Sam stayed unconscious for the rest of the night. They’d put him on sedatives and planned to keep him under for at least twenty four hours, to allow his body to heal up a little bit. Except for the IV with fluids and the heart monitor, he looked normal. His wrists, hips and legs were wrapped in white bandages that almost seemed to blend into the sheets and his skin. It looked wrong. So incredibly wrong.

Jessica stayed with him, but gave Gabriel the key to their apartment. Maybe it would be good for him to have something that belonged to him, something familiar to distract him once he woke up, even if it was just a book or his sweater. The hospital gowns were terrible, Gabriel knew that.

 

If he was honest, Gabriel had been surprised by the worry in Dean’s voice and just how quickly they arrived at the hospital afterwards. By the time that Gabriel’s next shift started and Gabriel dropped off the things that Jessica had asked him to bring, they were there and with Sam’s still unconscious form. If he could see well, there were tears in his mother’s eyes.

He had wanted to go in and say something, wanted to check up on Sam, but refrained from doing so with all of them in the room. They’d only have questions and he didn’t know if it was his place to answer them, still didn’t know if he was really allowed to. Sam may have confided in him, but he hadn’t told him everything. It would be hypocritical of him to think that Sam had told him all that was going on. After all, the secrets were his to keep and it was his good right to want to keep them inside where nobody could go running with them and let everyone know.

If Dean, his mother or father asked, he didn’t know if it was his place to go ahead and tell them that Sam was scared, lonely and had such a bad image of himself that Gabriel sometimes wondered if the both of them saw the same person standing there. It wasn’t his place to tell them that Sam felt like nothing but a loser because he dropped out of university and couldn’t keep up with the rest, that he felt like a fuck up because he wasn’t smart enough and couldn’t handle things. How could he tell them that they hadn’t raised a daughter, but a son?

He didn’t want to refuse them information either, knowing that Sam’s right to keep secrets had been overruled by his suicide attempt. In all honesty though, he didn’t even know what to say when they asked him what pushed him over the edge, what made him attempt to take his own life. He didn’t know if this was just right place right time or if there had been something or someone that gave him that final push.

He refused to read the letter that Sam had left for him. Sam would pull through and he’d be able to tell him all of the things that he’d wanted Gabriel to know. He could have that choice and tell him all of the things in person if he felt like he was up for that. Only if Sam would say that he’d rather he read the letter, he would. It was stubborn of him but screw it, Gabriel didn’t want to read it, didn’t want to know what was in there. He’d offer Sam a choice that his attempt had taken away from him, he’d allow him to speak in person.

If that made him a coward than sure, he honestly didn’t even mind anymore.

 

** **

 

So, like the coward he was, he’d avoided the Winchesters the entire day. The day was busier in the ER as it was, so it wasn't like he had the time to talk to them. He knew that they’d want to talk to him when Jess proved not to know why their son did what he did. If he was honest, he’d hoped that he wouldn’t bump into them at all during the day and he’d still get to say goodbye to Sam before he left to go back home, sleep a little bit.

No matter how much he tried to avoid the Winchesters, they still found him. Head nurse Mosely was with them, guiding them towards him until she stopped them and stepped closer to him.

“Look, these are the boy’s parents. They’d like to talk to you, I can have someone fill in.”

“Yeah, okay.  Can I take them to the cafeteria?” Mosley just nodded, before walking over to where they were standing. “Hey, is it okay if we go talk in the cafeteria?” He didn’t add that he’d need some coffee to get through the conversation.

 

Dean and Mary just stared at him for a long time, until Gabriel had taken a few sips of his coffee. He didn’t quite know what to tell them, what to start off with. There were so many things that he knew but didn’t know how much they knew. How much contact they'd had with Sam.

“How much do you know?” he eventually asked the two of them. “Or general, what did you want to talk about?”

“We just want to know what happened,” Mary offered, looking down at her cup of coffee. “We saw he- him leave to college as our happy daughter and then we get a call from the hospital that he’s attempted to kill himself. He _called_ and told us that everything was good and he was happy – he was supposed to come home for Christmas.”

“Sam dropped out of university about a month before his exams started,” he started. The shock that fell over their faces was something he hadn’t expected. He’d thought that they knew. “If he didn’t tell, know that he was pretty messed up about it. When I learned to know him, he had just started working at the bookstore. He didn’t look good.”

“Why did he drop out?” Dean sounded more puzzled than anything. “The kid’s a genius.”

“I don’t know, honestly. Sam is still so broken up about it that I didn’t want to ask. I hope you understand that.” Gabriel bit his lip. “Look, I know that he’s probably going to be pissed that I’m telling you this, but Sam was so broken up about it that everything dropped; his mood, his weight, his self-confidence. You weren’t there – and I’m not blaming you anything – but he thinks that he’s worthless, that failing university also made him fail being a good son, that he ruined everything. He dropped very low after that. It’s about all I think I _can_ tell you. I don’t know what else he told me and how much of it was true.”

Dean’s face turned into an angry expression at that, as if he wanted to snap at him, but Mary silenced him with a gentle hand to his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.” Quite honestly, he _was_ sorry. Even if it wasn’t quite his place to talk about these things, he wanted to be able to tell them. “It’s just that Sam had a lot of secrets. Even if he told me a lot of things, I doubt he told me the complete truth. A lot of the things he told me, he told me knowing that I wouldn’t tell anyone, I don’t break promises I make. Yes, Dean, I know that his right to keep secrets was revoked in a way by doing this, but I plan on keeping my promises.”

“It’s your right – we understand,” Mary sighed, “I just wished that he would have trusted us more.”

“If it’s worth anything, he didn’t want to disappoint you,” he offered, “look, I understand that you want to talk, but I’d like to go say something to him, check up on him before I clock out. Is that okay?”

“Yes, of course. You’re one of his friends. You were the one to close the wounds?”

“Partially, I had a lot of help. Has he been awake yet? What have the doctors told you?”

“Not a lot. Mainly that it’s waiting until he comes around again. From what they can see, he’s been dealing with this for a while. There are a lot of cuts. They’re wanting to weigh him as well to determine just how underweight he is.”

“Have they spoken of admitting him?”

“Possibly. A psych evaluation will tell us more.”

 

 

** **

When Gabriel eventually got to Sam’s room, taking away the bandages from the nurse that was due to change them, there had been no change in his condition.  His heartbeat was still strong and his blood transfusion had helped get his values up a little bit. Nothing would change how pale he was at the moment. It was malnutrition and cold. The fat percentage in his body had to be low enough that it wasn't enough anymore.

Dean was in the room with them, but stepped outside when Gabriel said that he’d be changing the bandages. Gabriel understood him not wanting to be there. If he hadn't been the one to put them there in the first place, he'd step outside as well. Mary stayed seated, said that part of her needed to be there.

“You’ve been a fool, Sam,” he sighed as he unwrapped the blood and antiseptic stained cloths, “but at least you’re healing up pretty well.” He cleaned them almost on auto pilot, holding his wrist gently in his hands. “You’re more stubborn than you want to be, aren’t you?”

Mary was just looking at him, with a curious look in his eyes that he couldn’t quite figure out. “Are you two good friends?”

"I like to think that we used to be,” he said, pensive as he switched to the other side, to work where she was standing. “Used to work at the same book store. Now, I’m not sure anymore. I got my job at the hospital and we haven’t been able to get a lot talking in. I still count him as one of my best friends though.” He carefully unwrapped this wrist as well, wincing as he saw the beginnings of inflammation there. “Sam, Sam, Sam.”

She was silent as he cleaned it a little better and rewrapped them. “Gabriel, does he blame us? Did we do anything to make him feel like he couldn’t talk to us? Do you know?”

“I don’t know, I’m sorry.” He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, “but for what it’s worth, he really didn’t want to hurt you. He’s just been battling so much and I think it just became too much. If anything, he didn’t want to disappoint you. He wanted to make you all proud, but I think he knew that you all are already proud of him.”

“I hope he does, I really hope he does.”


	3. Last Words from a Survivor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Gabriel gives in and reads Sam's letter. Please be aware that this may be one of the more triggering chapters as well. He talks about his eating disorder and how he felt.

_ _

 

_cut him open and you’d find_

_a graveyard of memories in his mind._

_he’s a living tomb; he’s a_

_mausoleum of unspoken hellos_

_and goodbyes said too soon._

_there is poison in his veins;_

_wings on his back that act more like chains._

_he wasn’t born with them; he’s learned_

_how to cope, how to hide, how to use_

_these gifts that were meant to condemn._

 

[ **weapons cannot choose their purpose (only their targets) | m.a.w** ](http://stigmmata.tumblr.com/post/132792188481/cut-her-open-and-youd-find-a-graveyard-of)

_Pronouns altered to match._

 

_** ** _

Jessica had still been at the hospital when Gabriel's shift eventually drew to a close. She hadn't brought her stuff, so she couldn't call for a taxi to pick her up. It was why he'd asked her if she wanted him to drop her off, which she had gladly taken. The plan had been to drop her off at their apartment before going back to his and take a shower, crawl into bed until oblivion took hold. 

She had changed those plans however, by asking him to come inside for a minute. They'd set down in the kitchen, each a cup of coffee when she slid the letter over.

"I still need to clean up his room," Jess said, staring at her cup, "but I honestly  _can't_. It's pathetic, it really is, but I can't bring myself to do it. You haven't seen it, Gabriel. There's so much blood."

"It's understandable," he said gently, "if you want, I think I'm free tomorrow, maybe I can help you out a little bit." As a nurse, he knew better how to get blood and vomit out of clothes than anything else. "Do you want to stay at my place until it's cleaned up? Get your stuff, have some of your art work, I don't know and hang out at my place for a bit." He couldn't imagine what it had to be like to walk around in your own house and feel wrong walking around it in because each corridor had the memories.

He couldn't imagine what it had to be like for Jessica, but also not what it could be like for Sam when he eventually did come back to the apartment. If they brought him straight to a psychiatric center, they would still bring him home to get some stuff, even if they didn't quite want him to be home.

"Yeah, that would be great, thank you Gabe."

"Hey, Sam's my friend but so are you. Don't forget that." He shook his head. "Plenty of space in the trunk, don't worry about bringing bit pieces - if you're still working on something."

 

She packed the stuff she needed with a remarkable efficiency. She only took her basic art stuff, a canvas, sketchbook and clothes. Part of it fit in the trunk and part on the backseat. Gabriel couldn't help but notice how exhausted she looked, how the bags under her eyes revealed in just how long she probably hadn't slept in. He felt for her, he really did. Not every day something like that happened in a place that you called your home.

"Gabriel, do you know what he wrote to you?" she asked from her place in the passenger seat. "Or why? I know the two of you are close but, why?"

"I don't know," he sighed, "and no, I don't. I don't really want to either, if I am honest. When he wakes up, I want him to be able to tell me why himself. If he wants to talk. I don't know, it just feels wrong to read it if I was only meant to read it should he have succeeded, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess. I just hoped, that it'd say why. That there was an answer to all these questions."

"He wasn't doing good Jessica. I didn't want to say anything with Mary there, because they seem to be worrying enough already but jesus christ. How much weight did he lose in the past couple of months? He was skinny when I last saw him and actually had the time to properly look at him and that has been at least a few weeks now. He's lost so much weight."

"He has," she admitted, "I noticed but I didn't know that he wasn't eating, I thought that he had. Like last time, he said that he'd grabbed lunch with you or that you'd come over. He always had an excuse that had somehow to do with you." She sighed. "To be honest, Gabriel I thought you'd finally gotten your heads out of your ass and went on a date or gotten together. I didn't think that he was lying."

Gabriel fell silent at that. "Jess, he hasn't eaten when I was there in a very long time. I don't know how long he's been telling you that he's been eating when he was with me but trust me when I say that he wasn't. I was eating and attempting to get some food in me before a medical emergency came in and cut me off off food." He shook his head. "Jess, we're friends, we've never been more. We've never been on a date or anything."

"It's not your fault, I shouldn't have trusted him that much." She looked up at him. "You wanted to, didn't you?"

"Maybe. I don't know. He'll be okay, you know? You don't have to worry that much. Some professional help with help him more than we will ever be able to offer him."

"Yeah." She was silent, her head resting against the back of her seat. Jessica reached out to turn the music up, a small smile stretching across her face. "He loves this song. You know, when I saw him lying there, I was so scared? I thought he was dead. I honestly thought that I had found him too late."

"The place he cut makes you lose a lot of blood. You could have found a body if you'd been a half an hour or an hour later. He's been very lucky, whether he wanted to be lucky or not."

"I don't think he wants to be."

"Yeah, no I got that." He laughed, but it was a bitter laugh. "Anyway, has he said anything to you about the Winchesters before? Because I know that he'd always told me that he was afraid of letting them down but in fact, they're really kind? I've been talking to them a little bit because they wanted to know if I maybe knew why he'd done this and what was going on, why they saw a son in that hospital bed while they thought that they had a daughter when he left for college. You know, the things that are quite normal for parents to wonder about when something like this happens and they seem pretty nice about it? I'm serious, I haven't caught them slip up on pronouns without correcting themselves halfway through. They've been kind and I don't know if that is just a show or if they're really a lot nicer than Sam made them out to be."

"They're okay. Sam did say that they were good to him,"  she said with a shrug, '"I haven't really gotten the chance to talk to them yet, but they seem nice enough, indeed. If I am honest, Gabe, I think that he was just afraid that they would judge him and that they would be incredibly disappointed in him when in fact he had nothing to worry about. It's something that's normal to worry about when you drop out, isn't it?"

 

Gabriel helped Jess put some fresh sheets on the bed in the spare room and left her to settle down a bit. It was still early, so chances were that neither of them would fall asleep soon, but Gabriel needed a shower. He could be mistaken, but he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t see Jess downstairs tonight. It was her right to stay alone for a little bit, she deserved to.

He ended up  giving in to his curiosity by the time that he’d taken a shower and gotten dressed again. It had been good to wash the smell of blood and puke off of him, even if he didn’t believe that it would ever completely go away. Jessica had given him the letter with a stern look and it had sparked his curiosity again. Gabriel almost felt like he was the one standing next to the car crash and was watching as the disaster happened yet was fascinated by it. This was different, Gabriel knew it, but still.

Sam had written him a letter and maybe it was only respectful of him to read it. Maybe Sam would want him to know. He was being stubborn but maybe that wasn’t right, maybe it wasn’t _his_ right. Sam had written to him, which meant that he wanted him to read it, even if that had only been in the worst case scenario, but for Sam best case scenario, that he passed on. The letter could contain clues, give him some key to untangling the mess of doubt in everyone’s minds.

 

Sam’s handwriting was neat against the lined paper, slightly shaken but taken care of. It almost hurt to see just how much effort Sam had put in the letter, how neat everything was. It made Gabriel think that he’d planned it, that he’d written the letter beforehand.

He took a deep breath before actually reading, as if that could ever prepare himself for what he was going to read.

 

_Gabriel,_

_I never told you everything. Part of me thinks that you know that, that you realize that as much as I do. If you're reading this, that means that I actually followed through on my plans. It almost seems...unreal. If I haven't opened up to you by now, it may still be right that you have no clue why I have decided to take this step. I'm going to explain._

_What I'm writing is the truth, in a way that I feel most comfortable sharing at this point. It's almost everything._ _There are little details not there, because you don’t need to know them. They’re not important. You don't need to know about me figuring out that despite being trans, I'm still attracted to guys. You don't need to know about my small moments of happiness that university actually brought._

 _This is the truth Gabriel, blue on white if you will. I’m sorry that it had to come to this, it truly is. Part of me never believed that I would actually_ do _it. That I'd ever be brave enough. I've dreamed and wanted to do this for so long, but I never thought I would go through with it. Each time, I chickened out._

_If this all works out the way that I want it to, these are the last words you’ll ever read or hear from me. I haven’t ever felt like I owed anyone a real explanation to why I disappeared, truth be told. Maybe they do deserve something, but they wouldn’t be able to do or handle a letter._

_For my parents and brother, I’ve always partially known that you would make them understand. Reading these words from me would only make them feel worse about this all. In doing this, I never wanted to hurt any of them._

_Or you, for that matter. I know that I probably did hurt you, hurt you badly. In the past few months, you’ve been a better friend to me than I deserved. When I deserved to be left alone and have no one, when I deserved to be left behind, you drove me home and listened to my complaining. Just the fact that you know how to deal with me at my lowest makes me trust you with explaining this all to them. To Jess._

_God, I hurt her, didn’t I? I honest to god hope that she didn’t find me. Please, apologize to her, in my name if she did. It’s something that I wouldn’t wish to my worst enemy. She’s one of the kinder more warmhearted women that I have known. She deserved nothing like that._

_Gabe, I promised you the truth and I am going to give it to you, unfiltered and uncensored. With this, I trust you. If you think that my parents can handle the full story, tell them. If you think they’ll fare better knowing only part of their son’s wicked mind, tell them part._

_Everything has been a chaos. It has been terrible. Fuck. For the first weeks having university to focus on was a relief. It brought some structure to my life. People called me by the name that I wanted, not the name my mother gave me at my birth. For the first time, I felt comfortable enough to get a binder, start completely presenting as male. My last year of high school, I felt so trapped, wearing feminine clothes and having curves. I felt so wrong being the person_ they _thought they were seeing._

_I think I knew, before this all happened, that something was quite right. I’d already started to lose weight the year before. Partially, it was the thought that finally the body that I had resembled more what I wanted to look like. It clicked._

_But good, I did tell you that all without hiding a lot. I told you about figuring out and feeling so broken. At least if my mind isn’t lying to me and telling me that I did while I didn’t. The whole thing isn’t important however, because that is only partially what drove me to this. I don’t know if you’ve ever been on a diet Gabriel, but after a while the weight loss starts going slower._

_It almost seemed like my body was telling me that it wouldn’t go any lower. Logically, I started researching and seeing if I could find a way to make me lose some of that extra weight. I found exercises and they helped. I lost more weight, but during that time I went to uni. I fell sick and didn’t eat anything really for a little under a week. The night that I finally felt good enough to pull myself out of bed and into the shower, I weighed myself and the scale told me that I’d dropped. Quite a bit._

_You have no idea how happy I was to drop those pounds. Soon enough, I was experimenting with skipping meals and more exercise. I lost more weight, but I derailed as well. I think after two months, I was strong enough to have my first eighty-four hour fast. God, I was so proud of myself when I didn't eat for that long. Not eating gives you this wicked sense of pride. Pride because you're being strong, because you are cleaning your bones from all that impurity._

_What not eating does to you is that it cuts your concentration. No food means no energy, which in my case meant not attending classes because you can’t get yourself out of bed. Fuck, I can’t remember how often I dragged myself out of bed so I could exercise a little, but class? Oh no. It was terrible. I caught up eventually, by working on coursework until five am. What not eating does is it cuts your sleep as well. At least for me. I barely slept Gabriel. As I'm writing this, it's two am and it feels like its been weeks since I slept._

_After I worked my ass of for every mock exam and failed each and every one of them is when I dropped out. When I got my first 2/20 back I cried for two days straight and wanted to set myself on fire. I decided that I couldn’t. I couldn’t push myself through that again. I just, I couldn't break that way again. I dropped out. You were there for what happened after._

_A lot of the days, I ate a few bites of raw vegetables or fruit. Anything that was low enough in calories so I would have enough fuel to carry boxes around. My body started dropping more weight and my depression or whatever all of this is supposed to be grew stronger._

 

_The best part of losing weight was that people started seeing me as a guy so much easier. Before, I was misgendered more often, I felt bad more often because of it. With my losing weight, I started feeling better. I started feeling more comfortable in my own skin. Maybe that's the only good thing about it._

_Honestly speaking, even without know you have helped me through some days. I’ll always remember the first day that I saw you and I introduced myself._ _You have probably noticed, but a lot of the time people slide their eyes along my body, as if they are trying to se if I am not fooling them. Even with my binder, they still don’t seem to believe that I am actually who I say that I am. I don’t know why but you were one of the first to just nod and smile, shake my hand._

_I never thanked you for that and all those other times, but that I will miss. I will miss you sticking up for me every time that somebody was a dick and misgendered me. I still feel sorry for the guy that you actually got your hands on._

_Perhaps too late – I should have done this ages ago._

_So that is part of it. As my mood and weight plummeted, my disordered thoughts and eating took a turn for the worst. If I wasn’t already checking the imagine in the mirror to see if I had changed overnight, what I did was become obsessed._

_Obsessed with the person in the mirror. Sometimes I would see the inches disappear and I would feel so good about myself. For just a few minutes I’d feel good. You have no idea how liberating that was._

_I do not know when you’ll read this letter. At this point, I have written this down for you so often. You deserved to read this more than anyone else, because of the fact that you’ve always been there to support me._

_Gabriel, I’m sorry that all your efforts were in vain. You tried so hard to save me from myself, but it was all to no avail. I wished that I could say that I’m sorry, that I am one hundred percent sorry for doing this._

_In a way, I am. I’m sorry that you wasted your time on my. You could have settled down by now, had a nice partner and stable life. In helping me, I think you forgot those things._

_What I want you to know is that I am incredibly proud of you. You’ve went up the ladder, you’re an official adult with a job that pays well, you worked your way up. You're saving lives, helping saving lives. I couldn't be any prouder and happier for you. Find yourself a partner, Gabriel, live on._

_Maybe one day, I cherished that thought. It's wrong of me to admit this now, but maybe one day I thought that it could work between us. That whatever we had could one day be more than this friendship we build. Don't get me wrong Gabriel, I am thankful for every moment that we had but sometimes, I wanted more. Some days I wanted that you curling up with me on my bed was_ not _because of the fact that I had been so close to killing myself that I yelled and screamed and almost jumped out of the window right in front of you. Some days, I wanted you to be with me just because you wanted to._

_Because you loved me. In a non platonic way. But we can't have everything, can we?_

_Take care, Gabriel Novak. Don’t let me saying goodbye influence you. Both of us know that you are the strong one of the two. And I’m sorry that you wasted time on a cutting, suicidal fuck up like me._

_Please, tell Jessica that I am sorry. I never meant to hurt her. She was an amazing roommate and friend. Taking care of her was my honor and I hope that having me in her life wasn't too damaging to her._ _Will you please look out for her? Make sure that she doesn’t take it too hard? I’d hate to see her throw her life way because of me._

_Please, tell mom, dad and Dean that I’m sorry for all the secrets. They deserved a lot better than the son they got._

_I’ll see you, one day._

_Sam._

 

 

_** ** _

 

There were tears in his eyes as he put the letter to the side. He refused to cry. He refused to cry.


	4. Hello, Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry about the wait people! For some reason, this chapter really troubled me. I've missed writing from Sam's point of view.  
>  **This chapter is the most triggering one up until now**. Please be aware of that while reading and skip the bits that might trigger you. Least I want to do is ruin someone's day.  
>  This chapter does contain some new possible triggers/quirks so please beware! In this chapter, Sam wakes up again. As you might imagine, this comes with some feelings of regret, sorrow. He's pretty much hit rock bottom at this point. So please, if you are easily triggered, be cautious with this one. Chapter headers will be added for each chapter, I don't know if you guys feel like they add to the fic or not - please do let me know your take on them! I'm also working (or well, finished) a cover for this fic, which will be added when it's completed.  
>  **Added tags;** purging, mentions of purging, suicidal thoughts, wish to die, mentions of scars, mentions of binging, fear of gaining weight, dysphoria mention, wounds, blood.  
>  Others may be added still as I read through chapters to see if I missed any. If there's any you feel I'm missing, let me know.

 

_ _

_if only i could make you believe you deserve everything_

_every spoon and bite, anything, you want to eat_

_cause i know can only starve so much_

_before you'll die_

_there's parts of you already gone_

_i can never revive_

**NICOLE DOLLANGANGER // PLEASE EAT**

 

** **

 

Gabriel just _stared_ at the paper in his hands for a very long time. He didn’t know what he had expected to be in the letter. Gabriel was supposed to read it after Sam had passed away. Suicide notes often were all about explaining and saying goodbye, he didn't know what he had thought it  _would_ say. It had explained and it _hurt_. Reading those words coming from Sam hurt, because he could hear him speak each and every one of them, could actually hear the way Sam’s lips would have formed the words and sounds.

His heart and head felt heavy. _He_ felt heavy, as if someone had poured concrete in his veins and decided to leave him like that. He couldn’t help but imagine those being the last words that he’d ever read from Sam’s hand. If he actually had to be the one to tell Sam’s parents how terrible he’d felt, how much of a screw up. Gabriel wondered where Sam got that trust in him, that he’d tell his parents and brother, that he’d be able to tell Jess.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath, the letter still lying in his lap. “Fuck.” He was just staring at the letter, not sure  _what_ to do with it. What could he do? Cling on to it and give it back to Sam? 

Gabriel stopped staring at his hands in his lap when he heard a soft knock at the door. It startled him enough for the letter to slip between his fingers and fall to the floor. He  _tried_ not to mutter under his breath as he stood up to get it, let Jess come in. She closed to door behind her gently, as if she was trying not to make noise, almost as if she was still trying to make sure that she wasn't waking Sam up.

“Can I sit down for a second?” she asked, biting at her bottom lip.

“Sure, come on,” he sighed, sitting back down himself. His hands were still shaking and he knew that his eyes must still be red. He was probably a mess. The letter made a crunching sound as he put it on the nightstand. “Is something wrong?”

“Not really,” she sighed, “I just couldn’t fall asleep. It’s too early. Then I…heard you. Are _you_ okay Gabriel?”

“Yeah, I am. It just…hit me a little harder than I thought it would." The letter almost felt as if they'd thorn apart his heart all over again. "Jess, he’s sorry. That you were the one who found you. He never meant to hurt you. He’ll probably tell you that when he wakes up, but he mentions it a few times so yeah. He’s sorry.” His whole letter had seemed to be drenched into a bunch of variations of ‘ _I’m sorry’_ and _‘I never meant to_ ’. He hated it. Hated that he'd read it.

“Did he, explain?” She was toying with the plaid at the end of the bed, twisting the fabric between her fingers. "You know, why? What happened?"

“A little bit. Not everything and I think he didn’t go into things on purpose, because they could hurt. Mostly, he talks about feeling bad and his eating disorder. He never calls it that much, but you’ve seen him in there. He’s skin and bones.” He shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts out of his head. It had almost been a shock to work on him, to see how frail he'd become. "I think that qualifies. If he's lying about food to you and taking in so little. There's not a lot else."

“I should have seen it sooner.”

“Jessica, you said it yourself, you were gone all day, you couldn’t control him. You're not his mother. You’re not the one to blame here.”

“I guess.” She sighed. “I really hope he’ll pull through and he’ll get better Gabriel. I really do.” God only knew just how much he wanted the same to happen. He doubted it, doubted that Sam would ever completely pull through. Eating disorders always stay with a person, Gabriel knew that.

 “Come on. Let’s go get some hot chocolate downstairs, this isn’t going to help either of us any.” She nodded and waited until he got up to throw her arms around him. "I'm glad he at least wrote to you."

 

** **

 

Sam woke up disoriented. There was a pounding in his brain and everything felt as if it was on fire, his throat, his arms and his veins. He was only vaguely aware of the beeping of machines around him and how could it really was in the room. Of the snoring coming from the other side of him. Or at least, he thought it was snoring, closer to another buzz in his ear.

 _No._ The thought came a split second after he’d blinked open his eyes.  _They saved me. No._

He almost felt as if he as in his own nightmare. As if this all was a cruel punishment chosen for the way that he chose to go. Hell was real and they were punishing him even more, for choosing to go in such a cowardly way. For deciding to cop out before they set the hard stuff on his path.

Maybe, if he believed hard enough, he’d close his eyes and this all would be a dream. There would be no hospital, no bandages, nothing white. There would be no IV giving him fluids – he didn’t want to know how much toxic fluids they’d pushed in his body just to make him gain just to make him become that pig again – and no monitors. He’d just pass away. He’d get his end, like he deserved. Like he  _needed_ to get.

“Sam?” the voice was tentative,  careful. Almost as if they were holding back. He didn’t want them to hold back, not for him. There was no reason to. He was the fuck up, he was the one that school be scared of them. “Are you around again?”

“No.” His voice sounded too sharp. “I’m not. Go away.” He wanted them to go away, to just let him go. Sam had been stupid, he should have gone deeper, taken more pills, done something more. He’d messed everything up and they wouldn’t leave him alone now. Everything was out there, all those feelings that he’d worked so hard to hide. _Everything. Everything._

“I’m sorry, Sam, but I can’t.” There was a scraping sound next to his bed and he had to muster up all his energy to turn his body towards the person speaking. It was a stranger, a doctor that he didn’t know. “How are you feeling? Do the cuts hurt?”

“No, they’re fine.” They did hurt a little bit. Whoever had put the bandages on had been careful, but it still stung, even when he wasn’t moving a lot.

“No nausea? Dry mouth?”

“I feel fine.” He could probably use a glass of water, just to have something to rinse his throat with. So that the feeling of death would leave it, but water would only make him feel more like a whale. “Honestly. A-okay.” The guy wrote something down on his clipboard before nodding.

“I’m going to inform the doctors that you woke up – your family will probably be here soon.” The doctor checked his watch. "Okay, maybe that'll be something for the morning." If it even could drop any further, he felt his heart fall. _They were here_. They’d seen him. They’d seen the piece of failure in the hospital bed, the person he still was. “Someone will be with you soon.”

If he could, he wanted to disappear, crawl out the window and jump down. Run and run and run until his muscles gave out, finally. Until his end would actually happen. He longed for it, needed it almost. Surviving was one thing, but the effects of that were a whole other. He’d _failed_. One of the only things that he thought he couldn’t fail at, he had failed. He couldn’t even die. How pathetic was he? How pathetic could a person be.

Sam had failed being a kind and generous daughter. He had failed being himself, being what people wanted him to be. Every promise he’d made five year old little Samantha, he’d broken. He hadn’t become beautiful, he hadn’t become kind. All he had become was a bitter old kid that probably wouldn’t even be able to walk out of the hospital because he didn’t have the strength.

The doctor told him, as he only half listened, that they’d managed to stop the bleeding and that it had taken him three days to wake up. It was night.  That a friend of his - it could only be Jessica – had told them about the fact that he was transgender. Just to check, they asked him if he/him were his pronouns, to which he nodded.

He could feel that his binder was missing and felt awfully exposed without its familiar confinement. It hurt to have it on some days and sometimes he couldn’t breathe, but it was part of him now. It was part of his mask. At least when he had it on, people didn’t think that he was a woman as often, they didn’t confuse him with something that he wasn’t.

 _Three days_. It had to mean that he hadn’t eaten for three days. It would make him pure and strong, clean, empty. Except his stomach didn’t feel as empty anymore. The all too familiar nibbling at the skin around it wasn’t there. They probably noticed how strong he was and like Samson cut his hair, cut his strength away with each snip of the siccors. They probably had him hooked up to IV feeds, trying to make him fat again.

Sam didn’t know if they were fluids or if it was feeds but he felt bloated and wrong. He felt sick, bloated. All he wanted to do was throw up, drink water and water until all the fluids were flushed out of him. He'd done research before, to see what a hospital admittance would do to his body. The stories of all the bloating and feeling like you drowned in a salt lake had been horrifying. Now, he was living them.

His fingers traveled to the IV in his arm, stroking it tentatively. He could so easily pull it out, disconnect it. There had to be a way that he could do it without completely wrecking his arm. There had to be a way that wouldn’t coat the entire room in his blood.

“You’ll be on a full observation floor if you do that,” the same voice warned. “You won’t get out of here so easily.”

“You can’t keep me here, not if I want to leave. You cannot keep me a prisoner.” They couldn’t. Doctors had the right to lock a minor up in the halls of this building, but they couldn’t keep a legal adult here. He was one, he could made his own decisions.

“You’re right, you can sign some papers and you’d be out of here. I don’t think that it’s the best option for you however, and you know it.”

“I never said I wanted help.” It was true. While part of him needed the help, there was also a part deep down that warned him that he’d been doing so good. He wasn’t sick, he was stable, strong. “I’m fine.” _I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine._ _~~Lies Lies Lies.~~_ “Seriously. I wasn’t trying to kill myself I just went too far, too deep.”

The doctor shook his head. “I’m going to let them in now. You’re lucky that your friend found you and that you had a good team of doctors to patch you up in the ER.” The doctor bit his lip, as if he wasn’t supposed to say something. “Look, I’m a coworker and friend of Gabriel and I know you got lucky with him patching you up. He’s the best one out there with sutures, even if he’s been out of the hospital setting for a while. He got you your second chance, whether you like it or not. Take it.”

 _Gabriel_. Just his name made something flip inside of his stomach. _Gabriel had worked on him_. Sam had known that Gabriel was supposed to work, but it hadn’t clicked with him that there was the possibility that he could work on him.  _Fuck_. He probably messed that up too. If Jessica brought him in, that had to mean that she knew. That she’d been the one to find him.

This time, he actually threw up. Doctor whoever it was must have noticed, because even before he sat up, there was a tub for him right there. The bile burned his throat as his empty stomach heaved and heaved in futile attempts to get some food to come up.

If the doctor was disgusted by it, he didn’t show it. “If you feel up for walking, I’ll help you to the sink so you can rinse your mouth and maybe brush your teeth, later.” If he’d felt bad before, he didn’t know what this was. “I’ll let them know that you’re awake after you’re back in bed so they can explain to you what the plan is now.”

“Don’t let them in.” His throat hurt even when he talked and he’d rather not talk again, but he had to tell them. “Don’t let my parents in. Or Dean. No one.”

“We’ll see. I can’t tell them until tomorrow morning anyway. I’ll ask you what your plan is in the morning.”

 

** **

 

Gabriel woke up with a kink in his neck. He didn’t even know why he was already awake, it was way too early for him to be if he didn’t have an early shirt. Whenever he had to work the night, he always woke up around one pm, just in time to eat, take another shower and go back to work on time, If he had another night shift.

His phone was buzzing. It was that that had woken him up. If this was another person trying to get him a subscription to a lame magazine or a possibility of him changing his internet provider, he was going to find a way to tear them a new one. He didn’t know how just yet, but he’d find a way. Murderers may be a liability in a hospital, but he'd find a way.

“Gabriel Novak speaking,” he sighed, sitting up. Gabriel couldn’t quite remember falling asleep on the couch. Jessica and him had been up for quite a while talking and sipping their hot chocolates. Eventually, she'd gone upstairs to sleep and asked him not to stay up to late. It was what his plan had been, to quickly do the dishes and then go back to bed, but apparently he hadn’t.

“Gabriel? This is Dean. Did I wake you up?”

“Late night last night,” he sighed, “is there news?” He didn’t quite like Sam’s brother, not yet. It was all just a little bit awkward and he honestly thought there had to be some reason that Sam had wanted to hide everything from them.

“Ah, I’m sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry at all. “And yeah, pretty major. He’s awake.” It took a while for the words to seep in. _He was awake._

 _Sam was awake._ It felt as if all the air was punched out of him. “How is he doing?”

“I don’t know, they’ve got him talking to a shrink right now, to see I guess. He won’t let us in, any of us.” If Gabriel’s mind was deceiving him, he thought he heard annoyance in his voice. “He asked for you, if he could see you. Can you come over?”

“Yeah, sure, I need to wake up Jess first. Give me an hour or so.” He was already getting up, phone clutched between his head and shoulder. “Do you know why he wants to see me?”

“No, not really. You should ask the nurse however – I didn’t listen to the entirety of what they said.”

“Of course. I’m coming as soon as I can.”

 

** **

 

 

They weighed him, at the hospital. Put him on the scale and forced him to look as the numbers ticked by. In truth, he’d forced himself to watch. They hadn’t wanted him to, whispering to themselves. Sam couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he was sure that they were talking about how for a troubled kid, he was _so_ fat. How he was the Michelin man. If they gave him any more fluids, he’d sink through the floors and the whale would finally literally be where he needed to be, where he belonged. Rock bottom.

Last time he’d seen his weight, he’d been 102.  He had been 102 pounds of fat and bone, flesh. It had been a while since he’d actually weighed himself because of how bad his days had been. He’d kept eating and eating and eating until his body felt like it would explode. Even if he had purged, he’d been so scared. So scared that he didn't feel like he deserved to know. He didn't deserve the comfort if the weight had gone down.

He’d been so scared that he almost fainted every time that he’d seen his all too familiar scale. Now, he _had_ to see. He’d probably be 115, 125. He’d be back to square zero, he’d be back to where he’d started. If that happened, he’d cry, he’d break down. All that had been for nothing, absolutely nothing.

The thin gown they’d put him in made him shiver as his bare feet hit the cold metal. It was too cold in the room, how could it be that they weren’t freezing their asses off either? He didn’t quite mind as much. As long as he shivered, he was burning extra calories that his body didn’t have.

Just the thought of how much they were pumping into him was terrifying, almost made him throw up all over again. His body was too sensitive to wanting to throw up. With all the binges and purges of the last few months, sometimes all it took was a finger halfway down his throat, he’d gotten that sensitive. He hated the throwing up because of how it made him feel, but the only thing that he could think about was all of the calories that he was burning on top of the ones he usually did. His body had to use muscles to bring the food up as violently as it did. Each time, more calories were burned and he was thankful, so incredibly thankful for it.

 _The numbers ticked by_. He stopped at 95 pounds. Seven pounds less than he was before. It was a small victory. At least almost dying had helped him burn something, some calories. Maybe it had burned his last will to live as well, he wasn’t sure on that one yet.

The nurse next to him made a sound he couldn’t quite place and told him to step of the scale, asked him to show all the marks that he’d made. It was none of their business, but the psychologist had insisted that he’d get out of here the fastest when he’d cooperate. Somehow, he doubted that. He’d do everything they wanted and give them the answers that they wanted. _Yes, it was an impulse_ and _no, I do not have any other plans_. _Yes, I regret attempting to kill myself_. He could lie and tell them that he was already looking for a therapist and that he had been on the brink of calling this guy.

Would they see through the lies like through glass or would they believe them? He’d always been a good liar, maybe they would actually believe him. There had to be someone that he could lie to. Even if Gabriel could see through his lies easily, it didn’t mean that the others could as well.

“Okay, so there’s the ones on your hips and wrists that the paramedics cleaned,” the nurse said again, “are there any other ones that you have?” There were so many that they had missed.

“Not self harm related, no,” he said, staring at his feet. Some of the other ones were, but others weren’t. He’d started to fall a lot in the past few months, be it because he was eating so little or because he was just clumsy. “There are a few fall related ones – I’ve been having some problems with my balance.”

“I can imagine,” the nurse mumbled under her breath. “We’re going to search for other ones, so we’d rather know the truth. It’ll only help you.” Like hell it would.

“There’s a few old ones on my ribs,” he said, fingers sliding over the gown. He almost loved the way that he could feel his ribs protruding. “Right here.”

“Okay, could you take the hospital gown off your back for me? Turn your back to me and hold it with your arms if that’s what makes you feel most comfortable.” He did as she said. Her fingers never touched his back, but he could feel them ghosting over his skin. “Okay, I see, these are old ones? How old.”

“Six to eight months, I don’t know.” He’d always cut there, because it would be covered up by his binder. Especially when he’d been able to go down a size, because the cuts would be pressed shut and it kept them from bleeding again. Most of all, they would hurt for as long as possible. “Those are all the cuts. Except for the ones that you know about.”

“Okay, good. I think a nurse will come change the bandages later or maybe Gabriel will do it again, god knows the guy has been treating you like his personal little porcelain doll ever since he recognized you.” There was something different in her expression and Sam didn’t like it.

“Can I get my binder back?”

“I’ll have to check with the doctors for that, but you can put your PJ’s back on now. Someone will wheel you to your room.” The doctor of before – at least he assumed that the guy was a doctor – was waiting for him with a wheelchair.

He hated it, hated every second of it. All he wanted to do was walk.

 

By the time that he was wheeled back in the room, Gabriel was already there. Sam didn’t know how long he’d been waiting or if he’d just arrived, but some relief flooded through him when Gabriel didn’t look angry with him. He hated seeing the worry in his eyes however. Of everything, that hurt must. It was twisted and wrong. Gabriel should have reasons to be worried. Sam knew that if the situation had been different, turned around, that he would be worried too, that he would be panicking. Not about Sam though, nobody could worry about him.

“Gabriel.” It was almost a whisper, as if he couldn’t get his voice to go any louder. “Hi.” It felt awkward, knew that the other guy didn’t quite know what to say. Had he read the letter? Did he know?

“Hi Sam. I’ll take him from here Cas, thanks for bringing him here.” So that was the other doctor’s name. “I’d roll you to your bed but somehow I think that you’d punch me for that.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he muttered as Gabriel lend him an arm, to help him up. His muscles felt weak from not moving for so long. “I miss being able to walk for a bit, to stretch my legs. Earlier, one of my legs was asleep and they didn’t even allow me to go past the vending machines.”

“Hospital policy.” He sounded almost apologetic. “You’re putting your heart and lungs under a lot of stress, forcing them to walk under these circumstances. Having you walk around could stress you too much. They’ll probably be worried until they do a heart scan and see how it’s doing. If that’s good, they’ll probably be a little bit more assured. You’ll get _past_ the vending machines then.” Sam had to bite back a laugh at that, even if it wasn’t funny. His muscles shook as he took his steps. He pretended not to notice that Gabriel was almost holding him up.

“You bandaged me up.” He didn’t know what else to say. Knowing felt wrong almost. “You _saw_.” His scars had always been private, Gabriel had never seen them or touched them.  Sam thought that Gabriel knew about them, that he’d been suspicious. “How can you still stand me?” He’d seen Sam in all his full of fat glory and just that thought made his stomach lurch again. He wouldn’t throw up.

“I didn’t know, if it helps,” Gabriel said, in his polite doctor’s voice. Sam had noticed that before, how he’d slip in and out of that voice. “But I didn’t know, not until you were all done and the nurses around your head were gone. I’ve been looking after them to make sure that they didn’t get inflamed sure, but that was all. Sit down, let me have a look at them. How are they feeling right now?”

“Sore,” he admitted. “They’re stinging.”

“Oh I see. One of them is quite inflamed. They should get you on some anti-inflammatory meds, just in case. The rest is looking good however.” Gabriel’s hands were gentle as they worked. “Does this hurt? Does it hurt if I touch the place around this cut?”

“Not really, not a lot more than they’re doing right now.” Sometimes, he wondered what made Gabriel so different for him, why he talked with Gabriel without problems while the doctor felt so dangerous. “But they already hurt so I don’t know.”

“Good. These should heal pretty well. You’ll have scars but you know that. Cuts this deep don’t quite clean up well.” Sam had known that when he’d made them, when he’d put those razor blades to his skin. He hadn’t cared then and he didn’t now. So what if he’d have scars, he already had so many. Especially on his hips. Had Gabe seen them? Had he seen them all covered in blood. “Let me see the other side.”

“Gabriel?” he asked tentatively, not looking up from where he was working on a cut.

“Yeah?” Gabriel was focused on his work it seemed. Had that been how he’d worked when he found out that Sam was the victim on his table? That he was saving his friend’s life and not some random stranger? “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing I just. Did you do the ones on my hips too?” His hips were a more sensitive region for him. They were scarred, ugly references to who he used to be, what he used to be. The body that had been given to him when he was born. They were still feminine, still round.

“Yeah, I did. Do you want me to get another nurse to do those? I can understand if you’re not comfortable with me cleaning those.”

“No, I trust you. Do them. It’s just that. You’ve seen them all. How can you still look at me?” it was a legit question that had been running through his mind ever since he’d woken up and found out that it was Gabriel who had done that. “How can you even stand to look at me when you know I’m that monster?”

“You’re not a monster Sam.” Gabriel sighed as he wrapped his wrist back up and sat down on the edge of the bed. “You’re not a monster because of what you’re doing to your body, you’ll never be a monster to me. Trust me on that. Do you think that it’d change how I look at you? Sam, I don’t care.” He fell silent for a bit. “I’m sorry that came out wrong but I honestly don’t care about those cuts in regards to how you’re feeling. You have cuts and scars and your stories, that doesn’t change the way I think about you.”

“Did you know, before?”

“No, I didn’t know. I had a feeling, but I never thought that it was what was going on. I’m sorry, I should have been there the past few months.”

“You did what you could, it’s fine. Just, get this over with, please. It sucks that I have to wear this underwear as it is.”

“Okay. I think you’re going to love me,” he said with a small smile as he peeled away the blankets and pulled the hospital gown to the side, carefully keeping his crotch region covered. He looked at Sam, _asking_ for permission before he pulled down the band of his underwear just enough to get to the bandage. “Look at your nightstand, I put them on there.” Sam fiddled with the plastic bag too long. “I didn’t know your size, so I guessed. I hope they’re okay.” It hurt as he pulled the gauze away. He heard Gabriel take a deep breath. “Shit Sam this one is worse than the other one. I’ll need to disinfect it more. It’s going to sting a lot more. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, do it.” He was distracted anyway and pain was good. Pain was always good. “Are these?”

“If you’re thinking the goofiest Marvel boxers that I could find, you’re right. Jess told me that she could only find your old clothes that were too big. She’s washing everything out, but I thought that these would maybe make you feel a bit better.”

“They will. Thank you.”

“Thank me when I’m done here. This is going to hurt, just warning you.” Maybe the warning made things only worse. Sam bit his lip until he drew blood before Gabriel was done.  The coppery taste lingered in his mouth. “I’m sorry. I warned you.”

“Hey could you uh, step outside for a second, I want to get one of these on.”

“Of course. I’ll be right back. Is it okay if I just turn around and look at your chart for a minute?” Sam nodded and Gabriel turned his back to him, scribbling something down on the paper. It felt good to be in boxers again instead of regular briefs. They fit him better, made him feel more comfortable. It almost felt like home, if he would only get his binder back. “Sam, are you okay without your binder?”

“A little more dysphoric than otherwise, it’s.” It wasn’t fine, he knew that. He wasn’t doing good at all. “I’ll manage.”

“Okay. I can see when they’re thinking of releasing it back to you. Maybe put some pressure on them. I don’t know. Sometimes, connections are a good thing to have in an hospital.”

“Thank you. You didn’t ask me how I’m doing.” It was more a thought than anything, something he had noticed. “Everyone seems to ask me how I’m doing, but you don’t.”

“Do you want me to?” He shook his head. “I already thought that everyone was asking you too many things. It’s sort of a no brainer that you’re not doing well. After a suicide attempt and what was in the letter – I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to read it. I just wanted…answers.”

“It’s okay. Those are things that you should know.” Sam bit his lip. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Gabriel shook his head. "Really, don't be." He was gentle as he took his hand in his and squeezed. "My shift is starting soon, so I should be getting dressed, but I'll be back, okay? I'll come bring you your lunch and if the head nurse allowed me give you some company, if you want. They changed me to this floor instead of the ER." Sam didn't want that, really didn't. Last thing that Gabriel should see him do was struggle to eat. 

"Thank you, Gabriel." What Sam really wanted was a hug, the comfort of having Gabriel's warm arms wrapped around him. It was almost as if he knew that, because Gabriel hugged him and for just a slit second, he felt better. "I'll see you soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, as you may already feel, this fic is starting to reach its closing. Chapter number seven will be an epilogue, so count about two more chapters of actual story.  
> I think this may be my place to mention that when it comes to recovery, I don't quite have the same experience as when it comes to Sam's problems. So when it comes to recovering, things aren't going to be as detailed as the thoughts/his pre-recovery time. I'm sorry in advance.


	5. Inpatient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before the chapter stars, I want to apologize for the fact that the previous chapter was not the lowest bit for Sam. I think I mentioned in the notes that things would start to look up, but I realized that I needed one more chapter, this chapter, for Sam to be completely miserable. Mainly because he hasn't faced the problems with his parents, brother just yet.  
> I'm sorry, I truly am.
> 
> A much more positive note in the end notes, since it's sort of a spoiler for the rest of the chapter.

_ _

 

_You fell apart last winter. Fell apart as the leaves fell from the trees. They showed their skeleton_

_and so did you. You’re just a construction of bones that turned ashy as the snow started to fall._

_It’s now I realize that you’re a ghost. You’re the ghost of winters past and life’s mistakes. You’ve always been a ghost._

 

_Maybe part of me is hoping that the winter will ease up and let summer in. I know that the winter will never leave your bones_

_It let in too much ice to ever fully  dissolve, but here is to wishful thinking that_

_one day the sun will warm your porcelain heart._

**WINTER WILL END. // STIGMATA**

 

** **

 

Dean entered the room tentatively when Gabriel left, lingered in the doorway. Sam wanted to snap at him, wanted to tell him to just get lost. He hadn’t been alone since he’d woken up and he was thinking that it was intentional. As if they were scared that he’d lash out, that he’d go ahead and run off or jump out of the window.

If he was honest, he probably would have. His mind was a gutter. It kept spewing thoughts at him that didn’t make sense. Sam still felt like throwing up, wrong. Getting his binder back was a great help and the underwear that Gabriel had brought him strangely did too.

“Can I?” Dean was walking on eggshells. Eggshells that Sam himself had put there along his path into destruction. God, he hated seeing that look in his brothers eyes. Hated it even though he knew that he’d put it there and that he was the cause of it.

“Come in? No.” Sam was surprised at his own voice, how weak it sounded. “Go away. I don’t want you here.” He didn’t want Dean anywhere near him, he didn’t want him in the same room. “I know Gabriel called you all but I need you to go.” They couldn’t see him, not like this. “Please.”

“We can’t.”

“Go away Dean, please.” Sam was pathetic so goddamn pathetic. “You don’t want to see me like this, you don’t. Get the hell out of here. Now.”

“Tell us when our Sam is back.” Dean was furious, it was so easy to see. He’d moved to the foot of his bed. “Tell us when it’s not a fucking ghost lying in a hospital bed anymore because you’re doing a stellar job.” His hands circled around the bar at the end of the bed. “Fucking hell, Sam. Mom and dad were so scared when they heard then we get here and your practical boyfriend tells us what happened. When they allowed us in your room, you know what we saw Sam?”

Sam had turned his head away a long time ago. It almost required effort, more effort than it should have asked for. Dean was looking at him that look in his eyes that Sam couldn’t stand; betrayal and sadness, grief, worry. It was terrible.

“We saw a ghost, Sam. You still are a bloody ghost. No color in your skin, you’re just skin and bones.” Dean fell silent for a moment. “Mom didn’t even think that it was you. She wanted to go out and ask if they were sure. If you shut us out now, I don’t know what she’ll do man. You need to get better, no you will get better.” His brother bit his lip. “I understand, trust me, I do, but if you shut every single soul but your boyfriend out, things aren’t going to get better, they’ll only be worse.”

“Who says I want to?” he asked silently, looking at his fingers and how they were slowly turning blue again. “Who says that attempting to kill myself gave me some insight? I don’t want therapy. I don’t need it. I need to die.” 

It was the first he’d said the words out loud. The first time that he’d actually told someone just how bad he needde to die.

“Sam I’m not going to fucking watch you slowly kill yourself. If you don’t want to get better, fine, but I’m out.” The door fell shut behind him.

“Gabriel is not my boyfriend!” he yelled after Dean, not sure why he wanted to clear that up and not the rest. Dean loved saying that he understood, but he really didn’t. Dean hadn’t been the one puking his guts out at one am because he’d couldn’t fall asleep if he could still feel his dinner in his stomach. “This is why I didn’t want you all here.”

 

** **

 

There was no one to listen to him as he broke, as he started sobbing, knees pulled up against his chest. His hands came down against his knees, legs, leaving aching red marks that would disappear soon enough. He wasn’t even man enough to withstand a little bit of yelling, a little bit of normalcy. He was messed up, messed up, messed up. One more hit. You’re such a screw up Samantha Winchester. His fingers felt numb, he felt disconnected from himself as he punched again and again and again. Such a screw up that you don’t even deserve to call yourself your own name.

“Sam, stop, please.” A soft hand came down on his shoulder, but he shook it off. He had to go, had to run. “Calm down, Calm down you’re not making sense.” It was a man’s voice, he realized that now.  “I’m paging Gabriel, he’s coming. Promise.” His hands had fought themselves free from Balthazar’s hands clasping them in their grips and it had caused them to bruise up, the bandages to get loose, but he didn’t care. He felt liquid against his skin as the IV pulled free from his vein.

There were footsteps running towards his room and just a little later, another set of hands was on his shoulders. They were more familiar. No matter how strange it may be, the scent of the all too familiar after shave calmed him down. 

“Sam, it’s okay. Please stop.” Balthazar pressed gauze to where the IV had gotten loose, he could faintly see that from where his eyes were glued to his knees. A gentle hand tipped his head up and the second that his eyes met Gabriel, he felt all the energy drain out of him. His arms fell against the bed and he slumped down, against him. Gabe had sat down next to him and pulled him in his arms.

The comfort the warmth offered was good, felt good, warm, comfortable.

He should be ashamed. Sam was flesh and bone, he was a ghost. All that his brother had said was true, but he needed to be, needed to be to get closer to death, to get closer to finally getting away from this shit storm that was life for him.

“It’s okay,” Gabriel whispered as his thumbs turned gentle circles in his shoulders. “It’s okay Sam, it’s okay.” Balthazar must have been placing the IV. “Balth, can you leave us be, just a minute?”

“Gabriel…”

“I’m not here as a nurse right now, Balthazar. I’m not crossing bounds I’m just trying to calm my best friend down.” Sam could be imagining it, but he thought that he heard some venom in his voice, as if Balthazar had warned him about something before. “You can check him over and check the bruises and bandages in a minute but please. One minute before he beats himself to a pulp.”

“Of course-“ Sam faintly heard the other guy take a deep breath before he spoke again. “I’ll come back in a minute.”

“Do you want to talk?” he asked, tentatively. Sam didn’t want to talk. He wanted to curl up against Gabriel or even just rest his head on Gabriel’s lap and sleep. Sleep without nightmares for a change and actually feel rested.

“Not really,” he muttered against Gabriel’s collarbone. Sam had to be a nightmare to hug. It almost had to hurt Gabriel, having Sam’s bones dig into his skin. “I have to, don’t I?”

“You don’t, not to me.” Gabriel let him go, let him sit back on the bed and pull the covers over his lap. “You know that you don’t need to tell me anything. The psychologist will probably want to talk when he comes back for your second eval and he’ll want to talk about this too.”

“I want to talk to you.” It was the truth and it hurt just a little bit. This was the first time that he actually sort of wanted to talk and vent as well. Gabriel was the only one who knew the whole truth, who knew just how fucked up he was.

“Okay.”

“Dean came by, after you left.” He hadn’t said anything wrong, hadn’t done anything wrong, except maybe yell at him. “Told me that I was killing myself.” It almost made him laugh. Maybe it did actually make him laugh, he felt too disconnected to really notice. “That I’m a ghost. Mom apparently didn’t recognize me when she walked in, said I couldn’t be me.”

That Sam could understand. He’d changed a lot since they’d all last seen him. “Dean practically told me that, if I was so intent on killing myself that he wasn’t going to watch me do it, that he was out.” He could see Gabriel’s hands clench into firsts. Gabriel’s hand felt warm as he put his over them. “Don’t. I pushed him, it’s a lot to take in. I already freaked them out badly enough, this is only making everything worse.”

“Fine, but this is not your fault. If he finds it hard to cope with, he should imagine what it’s like for you.” His voice was wrong. “You’re freezing, do you want a jacket or something? Something to put on?” He wanted something, wanted some warmth but knew that he didn’t deserve it. His body was battling the fat cells. He’d get closer to 88. Closer to 0. Fuck, how much he wanted to disappear. “I have a hoodie in the back. Let me go get it.” Gabriel squeezed his hand lightly. “I’ll let Balthazar come in, he’ll take a look at everything, okay?”

Sam only now realized that Gabriel had blood on him from when Sam’s IV got pulled out. It made him feel guilty. Gabriel shouldn’t have to walk around like that.

“Okay. Gabe? I’m sorry.” He looked down, couldn’t help but avoid him. “About.” He gestured around him, “All of this.”

“Don’t be sorry. Don’t bite off Balth’s head, he was only trying to help.”

 

Seeing Sam wear his shirt felt odd. He knew how it was supposed to fit and it was just miserable on him. The shoulders were halfway down his arms and the elastic on the bottom barely had anything to cling on to. At least Sam looked just a bit more comfortable.

Balthazar cornered him in the break room afterwards. He had it coming, Gabriel knew that. Both in treating Sam and snapping at him. He ought to apologize, he truly did.

“I’m sorry about before.”

“It’s okay,” Balthazar said as he slid into the seat next to him. “He freaked me out and I’ve seen psychiatric patients freak out before. Let’s be real however – I’m worried.” He nursed his coffee in his hands, as if he was unsure if this was safe territory or not. “About how you’ve been handling Sam.”

“What about it?”

“Gabriel, are you in love with Sam?” His eyes snapped up to Balthazar’s face. He was sure that there was _something_ there that the other guy didn’t like seeing.

“We’re not like that, you know it.” If they’d been together, Gabriel would have never been put on his ward and he would have never taken care of him as much as he had. Maybe he would have, but not in the role of a nurse, just as a boyfriend. “I’d have broken hospital rules. You know I don’t do that.”

“Not yet then?” _Was he really that transparent_?

“He’s my best friend,” he shrugged, “what do you want me to say.” He should tell the truth, but he honestly didn’t know if he wanted to. “Perhaps, not yet. Truth be told, romance is the last thing that I want him focusing on right now.” He shook his head. “Even _if_ I might feel something for him, it’s not my right to act on it. Not right now.”

“Gabriel, I’m only going to give you one piece of advice on this. Make up your mind and act on it. If you want to act on it, do it now. Before he goes inpatient – I don’t know if you’ve heard they’re planning on moving him to a specialized eating disorder clinic tonight, to go inpatient.”

He hadn’t heard the news yet. Quite frankly he’d been focused on his job and the other patients as much as possible, to push Sam out of his mind. Part of him had been more than traumatized by finding him on his stretcher and it had affected him as well. Hearing that he was going inpatient was good, it was positive. At least they could help him there in the way that he deserved to be helped.

“I need to go back to work,” he muttered, scooting his chair back. “Thanks, for telling me.”

 

** **

 

Sam felt his whole world crumble as they told him where he would be brought. The exams they’d done had shown that while he’d put a lot of stress on his body, there seemed to be no significant damage. It was a miracle really. There was some damage to his heart muscle, but not to an extent that they were worried about at that point in time.

He didn’t know if he should be glad or disappointed by that. Part of him had wanted there to be some kind of damage, something that could take his life away if they didn’t allow him to use his usual way of coping. If they forced him to be a fat cow, he could have his sweet revenge. He could still die.

A knock on the door pulled his thoughts away from the journal. He’d started writing in it a while ago, just to clear his head and now it was filled with text and doodles. Jessica had brought it to him on his request.

If he would be locked up in here, without sharp objects, on full control and with his door always open, he needed a place to vent, to write it all down. He’d go crazy, start flipping out. He didn’t think that he could ever live through the effects of it. He’d kill himself before anything else got the chance of happening.

Proof of that had happened that exact day, his little breakdown – as the psychologist they’d called had called it – and him hitting himself had been because everything got so jumbled up inside his brain that he didn’t think that he could deal with it anymore.

“Yeah?” he asked, more out of courtesy than anything else. A nurse could come in without a though and he knew that anyone would probably just walk in.

“Hi Sam,” Gabriel said, “can I come in for a minute?”

“Sure.” It was almost a relief to see Gabriel again. As pathetic as it may be, Gabriel helped him cope, helped him distract himself. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I just  wanted to talk and my shift is over so.” He pointed at  his clothes. “You got in lucky. The scrubs were pretty bad.” Gabe sat down at the end of his bed. “Did you get Crowley earlier?”

“I think so? I didn’t really pay attention to his name.” Truth be told, Sam had tried everything not to pay _any_ attention to the other man. “Really short?”

“He’s about my height, thank you very much,” Gabriel quipped. “But yeah, that’s the guy. I’m glad you got him. He’s a good guy.”

“Honestly, I don’t see how it matters.” It was probably too honest, but the letter had been as well. He’d spewed so many crap in just a few pages and Gabriel was still here. Maybe honesty would be good, for a change. “They’ll lock me up anyway, right? They’re transporting me there tomorrow. Don’t even get the chance to make my own goddamn bag.”

“Maybe it doesn’t, but if you’d have gotten a crap guy now, someone who doesn’t understand, you’ll hate the clinic even more.” Gabriel shook his head. “Do you honestly want to go back to the place you still have blood lying on the floor?” Sam’s and Jess’s apartment had been visited by a cleaning crew, but there was still blood in some spots, like the rug and his bedspread. “Wouldn’t think so. If it helps any, I’m willing to go make it for you and pack everything you want – stop scratching Sam.”

He himself hadn’t even noticed that he’d started scraping at his knees. The flesh was tender and bruised from him hitting it, making it hurt each time he scratched another layer of skin off. “I’m sorry.”

Both of them knew that the ‘ _sorry_ ’ was for more than one thing. It held a million things. It was an apology for Gabriel having to pull him back from the ledge, for fucking up, for making him worry. An apology for staining all of their lives forever with the foul stench of blood. Sam knew, knew painstakingly that this was something that would change his relationship with everyone forever. The people he knew now would almost always see him as that fat fuck up that tried to kill himself.

Gabriel’s hand coming down over his made him jump up a little. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“You’d be broke, Gabe. There’s too much going on in there.” He sat up, tucking his feet under his knees. “But, I just, I’m really sorry okay.”

“Don’t be, really don’t be sorry. Can I ask you _one_ thing Sam? Just one thing and ten I’ll be out of your hair.” He just nodded, frowning. “Please, _try_. Inpatient and recovery is probably going to be hell and you’re probably going to feel like you don’t belong there but please Sam, could you try? To do better and to heal? I know it’s a lot to ask and that I have no right to. Sam I don’t want to see you die, I don’t want to be in love with a ghost.”

Sam watched as Gabe’s eyes grew wide, as if he’d said too much. He didn’t quite know if it was Gabriel using the word _love_ or if it was something else, but his head was clear for just a split second. Fuck, it was unsettling.

“I can’t promise you I’ll recover.” It was the truth. If there was one thing that he couldn’t promise it was that he’d walk out of the clinic and that he’d be better. He couldn’t promise anything of that sort. Sam honestly didn’t even want to try. Things were fine the way they were.

“I won’t ask you to recover, just _try_. Please.” Sam squeezed his hand lightly in answer. He couldn’t get the words over his lips. He honestly couldn’t. ‘Recover’ and ‘recovery’ felt like he was chocking on his own tongue. All he could say and promise was that he could give it a go. He could attempt to.

“Gabriel?” he whispered as the other man sat a little closer and pulled him in for a hug. He’d forgotten how much he’d missed having people comfort him, how _good_ it felt. He clung to Gabriel, pulled him closer even though it must have hurt. Even though his bones had to be digging in Gabriel’s skin. “I don’t want you to be in love with a ghost.” It was no more but a whisper, but Gabriel picked it up.

“If you continue down this path, you will be one.”

“I know.” He pulled back a little bit, so that he could look at Gabriel. “I know. I just. I didn’t know that it would hurt this much.”

“What does?”

“Feeling loved.” It was weird how easy it was to accept it now, now that Gabriel was so close. “Being cared for. Part of me is yelling at me that I don’t deserve it. And I don’t, I don’t.” How could he?

“You do,” Gabriel promised, tipping his head up. “You know, Sam you deserve so much bloody more than you think you do. Just because you don’t think so, doesn’t mean that it’s not the case. I wish I could make you see that.”

Sam felt almost _embarrassed_ as Gabriel pulled him closer again, scooted closer to him so it was easier to hug. He didn’t _not_ want him to do it, he just wasn’t used to it, not anymore. He’d already shown just how touch starved he was to him before, how could he hug him again?

“Sam, can I kiss you?” It felt so out of the blue that Sam’s eyes flew open. For just a moment, he didn’t quite know what to say, how to respond to him. He was sure that Gabriel took it the wrong way, because he sat back, got back up on his feet. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.”

“Don’t go.” He rushed the words out, scared that Gabriel would leave, that he would leave and not come back. His lack of reply must have caused him to think that he was way off track. “Please.” His hand caught Gabriel’s sleeve the second that he was close enough. “Please.”

“Oh…okay.” He sat back down again, almost cautious.

“Ask me again.” Gabriel’s frown returned, but  he repeated his question. Sam barely noticed the blush on his own cheeks as Gabriel asked him if he could kiss him. “Yes.” Gabriel’s hands were soft where they cupped his face and his lips tasted like coffee. He was warm, felt warm for the first time in ages, comfortable almost. One of Gabriel’s hands snaked around to his waist, resting there. It surprised him, how intense the emotion felt.

His mind had fuzzy, had always been the past few months. There had always been a part of him screaming at him and judging him, there had always been _something_ reminding him that he was wrong and an abomination.

For the first time in months, it was _clear_. His mind was empty, devoid of thought except for Gabriel’s soft lips and the way that he felt almost warm. God he felt wrong and part of him was still so afraid that Gabriel would feel something n his body, that it would feel feminine to him. Frankly, that was soft of stressing him, but it was better. Fuck, it was a start.

Sam’s hands had fallen to Gabriel’s shoulders, just resting there when he pulled back. Fuck, Gabe was smiling and looked so relaxed. It mirrored what Sam felt as well.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” Sam sighed, because yes, it was more than good. “Yeah.” Gabriel _laughed_ at that.

“I think I need to go now, visiting hours are over, but I’ll join you tomorrow, if you want, bring you to the center? Do you want me there?” Sam had to think about that. Part of him wanted Gabriel to stay far away from there, to never associate a clinic with him, but he thought that he needed the support too.

“Yes, please. Do you think that you could get me a few things? I don’t want mom to rummage through some stuff.”

“Of course, Sammy.” Gabriel pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow okay?”

“Bye.”

Sam slept peacefully and fast for the first time in ages that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I promised you that things would start to look up at some point. I was partially hesitant to have their kiss happen here and not in the next chapter, but I think that Sam needed this little reassurance before heading into full forced recovery.
> 
>  
> 
> (Also I'm very sorry for using my own prose here, (': I don't normally do that but this (and another poem) were inspired by this so it really fit this chapter. I'm sorry!) Another thing, my tumblr url has changed. If you like this fic, please let me something know over at [confusedjimmy](http://confusedjimmy.tumblr.com). ( _I'll be going through all my fics to change the urls soon, so they match up again. ^-^_ )


	6. Welcome to Prison

_ _

 

_Your whispers echo the taste of goodbye, and in this moment,_

_you hold the rough draft of my last breath._

**—  There is something to be**  
said of bullets and   
heartbeats | [p.d](http://lostcap.tumblr.com/)

 

 

Sam saw his mother for the first time when she came in to bring him to the center. He hadn't wanted her to, but the doctor had assured him he wouldn't be leaving if he still refused to even spend time with his mother.  _We can't trust you on your own and as good a friend as Gabriel may be to you, he's legally nothing_. Mary had looked different when she walked in, worn. It made him feel guilty over anything, about not being able to meet her eye. He’d signed his own faith by not allowing them all in and he knew it.

 “Gabriel brought your bag to our hotel room this morning,” she said quietly, holding a navy backpack in her right hand, “he told us you’d told him what you needed. It should all be in here, somewhere.”

“Thank you.” Even though she may be his mother, he didn’t know what to say. All the things that had been left unsaid hoovering in the air between them. “Aren’t you going to…lash out at me?” He’d thought that she would, he’d expected her to, like Dean had. He’d expected her to say that she missed her little daughter and that she wanted her back.

“Dean is sorry for that,” she said, “he shouldn’t have lashed out.” Except that he _should_ have, it was what Sam deserved after all. “Your brother didn’t mean to do that, he’s just worried about you, we all are.”

“Don’t.”

“I can’t turn off my motherly instincts. I’ll always worry.” Mary didn’t look at him, had her eyes fixed on the wall behind him and the infuse he was still connected to. A nurse should come by soon to remove it now he was being discharged. Part of him wondered if it was because she was disgusted by what she saw. She almost had to be. This was the sickest, most wrong and poisoned that she’d ever seen him. “Like when they called us.” His mother sat down on the back of the bed. “We had no idea.”

“I’m sorry.” Sam _was_ sorry about that. He hadn’t wanted to be around and left to apologize, but he was.

“Don’t apologize.” She opened her mouth, as if she wanted to say something more but clamped it shut again. “The doctors will be coming soon to discharge you and your father and I are driving you to the hospital.” Everyone was telling him not to say he was sorry; Gabriel, Dean, his mom. Sam was almost getting sick of it. He _wanted_ to apologize, needed to. “Before you ask, Gabriel is here too. He got a day off. He’s asked if he could come say goodbye with us. If we didn’t think that he’d be a huge support to you, he wouldn’t make it past the hospital exit, but he’s going to the center with us.” She shook her head. “He cares for you. I don’t know whether I like that or not.”

“He takes care of me.” Sam looked at his mother for the first time since probably last time that he came home. “He’s good. Too kind.” _Too honest._

“Be careful, it’s all I ask.” She had to be getting all the hits at once. _First_ , your son tried to kill himself and later _second_ , he’s transgender. _Third_ , as if that was not enough, he’s a miserable fuck that cuts up his skin and starves himself _just_ to let out the poison that flows in his veins and then _fourth_ , he’ll have to be admitted because he’s too underweight. Now _fifth_ , he’s not straight, but hey, if he didn’t completely scar his body you might still have grandchildren one day. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.

“I am.” She tried to put a hand on his shoulder, but he pulled back. “Please, don’t touch me.” He’d hurt her, yet again. _Sixth,_ he feels awkward enough that he doesn’t want to be touched by anyone but his boyfriend.

 

His mother left him to change after the doctors cleared him. Hearing the door close behind her felt almost like relief. The doctor had already disconnected him from the IV and pulled out the cannula. The place here it had been was taped up, as if he didn’t have enough bandages on his body already.

As they allowed him to wash his face properly, he could look at himself in the mirror for the first time in what felt like ages. The bandages were a bright white against his skin, the way his face looked now – hollow, dead – almost scared him. He’d lost more weight and he couldn’t help the pride that ran through him, even if it was for just a moment. He should have gone deeper. In just an hour, he’d go in patient and they’d make a pig out of him; they’d stuff him and make him eat and eat and eat until the little Sam Winchester balloon was so heavy that it no longer floated on the air but lay on the ground. They’d make his skin expand and expand, make his hipbones disappear under layers upon layers of fat.

He ran his fingers down his collar bone, his arms, ribs. It felt like heaven to feel them sharp against the skin, it was what he’d wanted so badly for so long. His body was no longer that of a woman, at least it no longer looked like it. Sure, it was androgynous at best, but he was finally getting there. He’d almost freed his skeleton. His attempt had been his chance to set his skeleton free, but he’d been bad enough that he’d failed. _Again._

Sam wondered how Jessica hadn’t noticed how sick he’d become, how bad things were. Hadn’t she seen how much weight he’d lost? Were it only Gabriel and his parents that did, because they saw him so rarely? She was gone a lot, so he couldn’t blame her, but part of him was bitter about it. It could only mean that he hadn’t lost enough, that it wasn’t clear enough. Jessica had been by and he’d let her in, if only because he needed to apologize, apologize for so much. For traumatizing her, for lying to her, for being such a crappy roommate. She shouldn’t have found him and she most certainly shouldn’t have been forced to clean up his blood.

The bruises on his knees were clearly visible now, not the way they’d been the day before. His knuckles were bruised again, from where bone hit bone. At least he had that, that reminder that he could still punish himself. He’d been _this_ close to pulling at his hair, the way he’d done at first, but had been able to prevent it. Just running his hands down his body and pressing down on the bruised skin was enough.

Sam had refused his breakfast that morning. The only thing of the platter that he’d eaten was technically not even food, it was a drink: his coffee. It tasted sickeningly sweet, another attempt to get more calories in him, to get more fat on his bones. The doctor – Balthazar – had been so angry with him that he’d been sure that he’d get Gabriel, that he’d get Gabriel to sit at the foot of his bed and cut up his apple and food and to force it into him. Gabriel hadn't come because it was his day off and he wasn't there. He’d won that battle, but it was probably the last one he would win.

“Sam?”

“One minute,” he yelled back, stepping in his jeans. After days of hospital gowns and loose sweats, it felt weird to be in the clothes that he was used to again. The sweater was warm and comfortable and as he slipped into his combat boots, part of him felt like he could take on the world, even if it was just for a minute. “Almost there.”

He quickly did what he’d gone in there to do, to wash his face. It felt stiff and sticky with tears from the previous night. Part of him knew that no one had noticed but him and if they’d done so, they probably saw worse stuff every day. The thought that they’d seen him as that much of a mess made disgust run through him.

His fingers dug in his skin as he balled his fist. _Get yourself together Sam._

Gabriel was sitting at the foot of the hospital bed, the backpack next to him on the bed. Sam had a few things he still needed to pack up. It wasn’t anything big, just a book and his journal. The journal was something that he didn’t want to have with him while at the hospital. From other people, mainly online, he’d heard horror stories about inpatient programs. He knew that his privacy would be at a literal zero.

“Hi,” he sighed, falling down on the bed next to him, “thanks for the stuff.”

“It’s the least I could do. I have a feeling that you didn’t really want your mother rummaging through your stuff.” He could feel Gabriel relax as Sam rested his head on the other man’s shoulder. Even if he wasn’t quite comfortable with it, he was warm next to him and he was freezing. “I, uh, cleaned up a bit. There were still some spots that needed it. Here’s your coffee by the way – plain black right?”

“Yeah, thanks Gabe.” He closed his hands around the cup, glad to feel the warmth seeping in. “Is Jess still at yours?”

“She is,” he admitted. “She doesn’t quite feel ready to go back. I’d rather she is however, it brings some life to the house. You don’t really know how quiet it is to live alone until there’s someone else and suddenly you’ve got someone to watch tv with.” A small smile stretched across his lips. “You know, the house hasn’t been this messy and paint splattered in a while, but there’s food when I come home and the dishes are done so I can’t complain.” He fell silent for a little. “Do you know if gauche gets out of fabric? I mean you’ve live with her for a long time, how do you get it out of curtains?”

Sam laughed and truth be told, it surprised him a little. “She’s good. She really is. I’m glad you both have got each other. And the paint, just give them a wash. Use some detergent – or aren’t you supposed to use it? I can’t remember. Ask google – it’s very smart.”

“Very funny,” Gabriel huffed. “Drink your coffee. Do you want me to leave you alone while you pack the last of your things?”

“No, it’s okay,” he sighed before getting up. They should get moving. Sal knew that they were already running a little late and that, if they stalled any more, his mother may come up to drag him to the hospital by the back of his hood. “I actually need to ask you a favor.”

It felt wrong, trusting Gabriel with his journal. For the past year, this had been where he could write down everything that he felt. It held some of the darkest and most wicked thoughts that he’d thought. Hell, the latest entry was from that morning.

If Gabriel read it, he’d turn on his heels and never turn back. He’d leave him. Giving the journal to Gabriel to keep safe was like playing with fire. Playing with fire was his only option however. If the hospital got it’s hands on it, he’d be dead and if his parents got to read it. He didn’t want them to get their hands on it.

“Could you keep this safe for me? I don’t want to take it to the hospital, because it’s a bit personal and if I give it to my mother.” He shrugged. “I don’t trust them with it. They could read it and what’s in there is none of their business.”

“Of course. I’ll go put it in my car before we go to the hospital, how about that?” Gabriel offered, taking the things that Sam gave him to put in the backpack. “I took out the strings of things if I could, by the way. You’ll notice there, but they check for stuff like that. As in shoes I took your zipper shoes – I know you don’t like them but they’d take the laces out of the rest of your shoes.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks. Can we just, go now?”

“Of course, let’s go then. They wanted to roll you out by the way.” Sam turned back to Gabriel, frowning. “You’ve lost more weight – Balth told me you’ve been refusing to eat anything and even the coffee around noon. They didn’t _want_ you to walk out. I pulled some strings for you. At least keep your dignity while you still can, right?” Just the look in his eyes told Sam that Gabriel would have rather seen Sam rolled out by the staff and locked away without moving until he was fat again, until he was nice and round and there were no more bones.

“Thank you. I owe you so much.”

“Don’t worry about it – just focus on getting better, is all I ask. I know you’ve been refusing food and that at the hospital, they won’t allow you that option, but try.” Gabriel shifted his eyes to the ground as they walked, as if there was something he wanted to say but couldn’t or wouldn’t. "Just all I ask."

"I will." Sam shouldn't. Sam couldn't. He couldn't promise it. "I can't promise you that I'll be out of there and that I'll be all better, but I can try to." It felt so wrong to lie to Gabriel, so awfully wrong but the truth would only upset him more.

Walking was a familiar but tiring strain. At least he could finally stretch his legs again, walk around. It was burning more calories, helped him clear his head. He knew that as he walked, there were moments that darkness nibbled on his vision and that in those, his path strayed and he bumped into Gabriel, but he didn't seem to mind as much. Sam wasn't sure if he caught it right, but he thought that he heard him mutter a  _I should have wheeled him out myself_.

                        

Mary and John were waiting in the lobby of the hospital, coats on their arms and a worn look in their eyes. Dean wasn't there, which wasn't surprising. After his brother stormed out the previous day, he hadn't been back. Gabriel had told him as much.

Seeing his father felt odd almost. He had never come to his room hadn't spoken to him yet. Maybe he was still processing maybe he didn't know how to deal. Sam honestly didn't know. What  _should_  he say?

"Sam,” he nodded. “Gabriel.” He too seemed to be weary of Gabriel, which really made him wonder what the hell Gabriel had done to them to have them be so annoyed with him. “Are we good to go?”

“Yeah.”

 

Mary and John weren’t happy with Gabriel there, but honestly, Sam didn’t quite care. They could just be grumpy in the front of the car. Gabriel brought him some reassurance and strength. If Gabriel hadn’t been there in the car with him, Sam was sure he’d already thought of just getting out.

They arrived at the hospital in complete silence. Somehow, Sam had fallen asleep along the way, waking up with Gabriel carding his fingers through his hair and his head on the other guy's lap. Gabriel just smiled at him before letting him go. With just how awkward his father was staring at the two of them, Sam  _knew_ that he'd just found out. Truth be told, he didn't even know if what they had was an actual relationship.

Sure, they'd kissed but that didn't mean anything. It didn't mean that he could count them as a thing yet. Part of him didn't want to either. He needed to focus on getting through this hell they were putting him in first, maybe on getting better and healthier. For all he cared, they could figure it out when he was out of there.

His parents just got out before saying that they’d go in to sign the proper paperwork and make sure that their social security covered some of the fee. Sam knew that they were just giving them a chance to say goodbye. Even if they didn’t seem to like Gabriel – something he really had to ask Gabe about – they still were in their right minds about this.  They still cared enough to let them be.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” Gabriel asked him, standing at the trunk of the car awkwardly. Sam had already taken the backpack from him. “Or would you rather I didn’t? I mean –“

“Yes. Please.” He’d chicken out. He’d run away and say that he wouldn’t be admitted. Gabriel was his reason to be brave. The only person that still seemed to care. “Please don’t make me go in alone.”

“Okay.” He seemed to be relieved that he was still allowed. “Good, I will. You good to go?”

“I don’t have choice, do I?” If Gabriel noticed that his voice shook, he didn’t say anything about it. He sighed. Sam wasn’t going to make any of this better by being a baby about it. “Let’s just, get it over with, please.”

“Come on.”

 

 

Gabriel hugged him tight. Sam had hidden his face against the warm fabric of his sweater, hands twisted in the back. Least Sam wanted to do was say goodbye to him, least he wanted to do was let go and let the only constant walk away, but he had no option. The nurses were already waiting to take him back.

"I'll see you soon," Gabriel promised. "If there's anything you'd need or books you want to read, get a message to me and I'll bring them."

"Sam, we need to get you to the doctor - they're already waiting for you," one of the nurses - Anna - said. "I'm sorry." He nodded at her. He knew that they didn't quite have the time to say a big goodbye.

"I'll see you soon," he echoed before letting Gabriel go. "Bye."

"Bye." Something tugged at his heartstrings as he saw Gabriel walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should any of you start wondering after about a month of radio silence... yes I'm still here. This chapter is shorter than the others - I'm really sorry about that people. The next chapter is going to be an epilogue and _should_ be here sooner rather than later, but I can't be sure.
> 
> Thank you all so much for sticking with this fic. ♥ If you want, you can find a [ masterpost at livejournal](http://youaregonecas.livejournal.com/14708.html). Once the epilogue is up I'm putting one on Tumblr as well!


	7. Epilogue;

_ _

 

_My heart was destroyed long ago._

_It’s ruined,_

_mangled beyond repair,_

_weighing heavily beneath my ribs._

_But you…_

_You took it out,_

_patched it up,_

_and gave it back to me._

**my heart is my own now, and i want you to have it - c.k**

 

** **

 

The heat was the worst. Sam didn’t know if he’d even pulled himself out of his bed if it wasn’t for the sweat clinging to his skin. He’d been tossing and turning all night, trying to get to sleep and eventually just giving up. He could go down the hall, to where a staff member was always waiting to snuff out people who were causing mayhem.

Except that the people who visited them were usually having a really rough night and unable to sleep because of it. In fact, he was on the upswing it seemed. For however long that would last. The same thing had happened after two weeks; he’d started feeling better, the meds were kicking in, he _felt_ emotionally kind of stable. Three days after that he’d crashed.

The bed creaked as he sat up, back against the wall. They’d be waking him up in about an hour for his weigh-in. He still didn’t know why on earth they thought that five forty five am was a good idea to wake students up for weigh-ins, but he cursed them.

He was usually one of the last ones to be weighed – the wonders of having a last name starting with a W – so it wasn’t like he couldn’t take a quick nap in the waiting room, but it still sucked. After weigh-in it would be meds and food. After that it was group and art therapy. The highlight of the day was his visitation hour though.

Gabriel had promised he’d take the day off to come by.  Over the past month or two, he hadn’t been able to see Gabe at all. Work was busy and Gabriel needed the time to relax a little bit. They’d spoken on the phone however and sometimes, when he was having a rough day and nothing worked out, his therapist allowed him to get a call in with Gabriel.

It was almost sad how quickly his moods was lifted just a little by nothing but a conversation, but he counted his blessings. The relationship with his parents was on the mend, he was getting there. The family therapy they’d been offered helped bring things up in a controlled way. Sam was able to talk and explain and they were able to ask questions.

Dean had only been brought in for them a couple of times, but each time he’d been respectful and kind and he’d actually _asked_ him things. Sam knew that his brother wasn’t a villain and that he’d never explicitly done anything to hurt him, but he still was – along with their father – one of the people that he was worried about.

Especially after the hospital. Especially after Dean yelling at him. Especially after Dean pretty much told him he’d given up. _“Sam I’m not going to fucking watch you slowly kill yourself. If you don’t want to get better, fine, but I’m out.” The door fell shut behind him._ ” He’d talked with the therapist about that moment a lot, not just because of what Dean had said, but also about how it had felt to hear his own fears spoken out loud.

Sam had cried a lot in that dusty office. Even if some of the days were about nothing more than pure _anger_ flowing through him, he’d cried a lot as well. Not even because he was sad or lonely, no, it was just because he felt so much and everything was so overwhelming.

He was walking now, pacing in his room; _back and forth, back and forth_. If the nurses caught him he was toast. He’d been caught exercising before, he’d been caught _a lot_ in fact. Sam honestly wondered if he was still that disordered or if it was just because of the fact that he was so bad at hiding it.

The doctor made it almost impossible for him to get away with anything related to self harm. New bruises were noted, old scars were checked to see how they were doing. He was allowed to wear his binder during therapies and what not, but not during the check-up, so he couldn’t even scratch and hit himself underneath it, as he’d done before.

Sam had been put in isolation before, had been put on extra supervision, almost everything. The past month or so had been more stable. His psychologist was actually happy with the progress he was making. He himself wasn’t however.

Gaining weight was the worst feeling in the world. He could feel it the second he opened his eyes; could feel how his stomach was bloated and how his thighs rubbed together under the blankets. His skin was expanding again and he hated every second of it.

No matter how much the others said that he’d get used to it and that he would feel better, he knew he wouldn’t. Sam would never get used to having fat on his thighs again, to having the first signs of _boobs_ again. As it all wasn’t bad enough. As if his dysphoria wasn’t enough on any given day.

He’d survive however, he always did. He had no choice. Sam had promised his mother, his father, Dean; he’d promised Jess that she’d never walk in on a scene like that again. Most of all however, he’d promised Gabriel he’d get out and that they’d get to go on an actual date, take _their_ time to figure out their relationship and what each of them was comfortable with. At this point in time, they weren’t partners, they just had chemistry. They had chemistry and fun, but without all the labels. They could figure it out in their own time, when his mental state wasn’t what held his mind captive.

 

Jody – Jody Mills, his psychiatrist – was waiting for him around nine am. Almost as if by miracle, Sam had survived the entire morning. He’d be forced to have an extra drink of Ensure because he’d only managed to finish a quarter of his breakfast, but the fact that he’d gotten to finishing the rest was a small victory.

“Good morning Sam,” she said with a gentle smile on her lips, “sit down. I think we have something to talk about – and there is something that I’d like to do with you.” She waited to continue talking until he’d sat down. “How was your night?”

“Bad.”

“Ruby told me. Said you’ve been up for most of it.” Jody was kind enough, had a warm heart and a generous smile. Some days, when they weren’t breaking down every fiber of his memories to figure out where his eating disorder stemmed from, he actually liked her. “You told her you just couldn’t fall asleep, but the staff is familiar with your trust issues. Did something change? Did you get any sleep at all?”

“It’s just too warm. I’m so used to being old all the time. The heat has me sweating and…yeah.” He wasn’t eloquent with his words, not today. “Not the best night, but it’s not a bad one, not like at first.” Sam had attempted to run away after a week. He’d broken down trice was fed up and tired and just the taste of Ensure made him want to throw up. It was too long ago for him to remember it clearly, but he remembered hitting the glass over and over and over again, because he couldn’t get it open and he couldn’t jump out, run away. The nurses had brought him to the isolation room for the first time that day. “I didn’t get any sleep, but it’s okay. I’ve got stuff to look forward to.”

“The nurses told me Gabriel is coming around again.”

“He is.” Sam couldn’t help the small smile from spreading across his lips. “It’s been a month. I’ve missed him. We talked on the phone, but it’s different you know?”

“And we have noticed.” She was smiling now. “You’re always more cheery after he comes by. Now, Sam the main reason that I wanted to see you now is because there is something that I think could help put everything in perspective. You’ve changed, you noticed that too.” Jody put her pen back on the pack of papers she was writing on. “You’re dysphoric a lot these days and I think this should help you get a clearer idea of what your body _actually_ looks like. What do you think?”

“We could try.”

“Okay, good. Step over here with me.” A big piece of paper was already waiting for him against the wall, held up by quite possibly Jody’s willpower, string and binder clips. “I’m sorry for the awkward set up. Here’s a marker. What I’d like you to do – and you can take your time for this -  is draw your silhouette on there, as you _think_ it is right now, can you do that for me?”

“Yeah.” He’d heard of this before, but only in vague conversations. There were two things he could do; what he would have done three months ago and what he ought to do now. Three months ago, he’d have drawn himself smaller than he as really saw himself, because that meant he’d get out faster. _Fake it until they release you_.

But he had to be true to what he saw. There was no other way to get _anything_ out of the precious tax payer dollars the government was sacrificing so he could have a shot at being healthy.

Sam’s hand shook as he put the marker to the page for the very first lines. His chest and waist; tapering in ever so slightly before flaring out, thunder thighs, arms and rolls. It was more exhausted than he’d ever imagined, as pathetic as it may sound.

“Step back with me,” Jody said, “and let’s look at it, let’s go over it.” She watched him for a solid minute before she spoke. “What I gather from this is that you think you look very feminine.” He bit his lip and nodded. “You made sure to draw in breasts, wide hips. Do you think that it is what people notice about you?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. When you see this, what do you see? Can you write down some adjectives?” She handed the marker back to him. “Don’t think too much, just write what pops into your head. I’m going to fetch another marker, but I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, okay.” It was almost pathetic, how limited his vocabulary was now. His heart was pounding in his chest as he put the marker to the page. ‘ _Feminine’_ written over the breasts, ‘ _good girl’_ over the love handles. ‘ _thunder thighs’_ and _‘whale_ ’ over each of his thighs in a shaky handwriting.

There were so many adjectives he _could_ write; _loser, pathetic, fat ass, idiot, screw up_. If he could write what he wanted, he’d just take a big marker and he’d write ‘ _waste of space_ ’ over each inch of the paper, until there was nothing but hundreds of different variations _‘waste of space’_ all over.

He ended up writing it right over where his heart would be. If _anything_ was a waste of space, it was his heart.

Sam was so caught up in writing that he didn’t notice it at first when Jody returned with a blue sharpie in her hands. She took in the words, nodded and wrote something in the corner of the paper, right where it hit the ground.

“Okay, thank you, Sam. We’ll need to talk about this, but now what I want you to do is stand against the paper, feet where the ones of the silhouette are.” He did as instructed and stood still as she traced the outlines of his body. “Step back and look at it.”

He took in a deep breath when he saw the difference. Sam didn’t know _why_ it was such a shock to him to see how much more androgynous the shape was, how it was thinner.

“This is you Sam. This is you.”

 

He was still out of his element when Gabriel came by after dinner. Sam had finished more of his dinner but still too little according to his nurses. He’d get yet another pack of Ensure at their snack time. He’d secretly hoped that they’d explode.

Gabriel was without a doubt the highlight of his day. He looked worn and exhausted, but good too. Having him hug him _finally_ felt familiar again. Almost made this a little bit feel like home.

“Hey Sam,” Gabriel sighed before sitting down next to him. “Sorry it took me a while – people seem to be intend on getting in accidents these weeks. Hospital has been crazy.”

“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere, not for a while.” His last weekend at home had made that obvious. “Is Balthazar still giving you problems?”

“You mean has he stopped asking about my boyfriend? No, but that’s Balth. I told him you were doing better though and he seemed to _actually_ be happy. I count that as a win. Somewhere between spitting curses at him and threatening to run him over with your wheelchair, I think you managed to get a spot in his heart reserved for you. How are you?”

“I _never_ threatened to do that.” Sometimes he forgot just how much easier it was to laugh when Gabe was there, to smile. “He made that up and had a rough one. It’ll pass though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I already asked you not to,” he sighed. “Don’t apologize when you’ve got nothing to apologize for. Honestly. It only gets me annoyed.  If you really want to comfort me just hug me.” Which was, of course, what Gabriel did right that second. “You smell like antiseptic. Did you end up working anyway?”

“Nah, the scent doesn’t wear off anymore. Too much expose to it the past couple of days. Oh, that reminds me, Jess asked me to get this to you.” He handed him a stack of photos. “We were browsing her computer the other day and she found some pictures from when you first moved in. There’s even one of the two of us in the book store like the kids we used to be.”

Gabriel and Jess had become better friends through this and that was probably the only positive thing that came from his suicide attempt. Jess had moved back to the apartment, but as far as he knew, they still had cake and coffee every other Sunday and talked all the time. Sam was happy they were friends. He truly was. Part of him just hoped he _could_ be part of those Sundays without having regret and disgust run through him at just the sight of the cake.

“We’ve both changed.” Sam shifted his gaze from the Gabriel in the picture to the guy sitting next to him. “You’ve actually learned how to shave properly.”

“Hey, I rocked that beard!” Gabriel quipped before jabbing him in the ribs. “No hate for the beard Sammy.”

“You look like a sixteen year old,” he huffed. “Oh, I remember this one.” He told Gabriel the story of how Jess had allowed him to mess with her paints once and how he’d gotten more paint on his hands than on the canvas. In the picture, he was smiling. An actual genuine smile, not the fake one he’d start wearing in the next few months.

“Only you. Only you.” Gabriel shook his head. “Paint is supposed to go on the _canvas_ or hell, watercolor paper. _Not_ on skin.”

“Oh wait until you paint – did you get that out of your curtains, by the way?”

“I will eventually. I think she’s still sorry for that, keeps glaring over at the curtains to check.” He fell silent for a bit. “I need to change them out anyway, she really shouldn’t feel guilty about it.”

“She feels sorry very easily,” he admitted. “It’s one of her charms however. She’s a little worrier.”

 

Sam drank his extra Ensure that night. Maybe it was due to Gabriel’s visit and getting to laugh, maybe it was because of getting extra pictures to hang up in his room, but for once, it didn’t quite taste as gross nor did it take him the entirety of their snack time to get it down.

 

 

** **

 

Sam padded downstairs for what felt like the thousandth time that night. Gabriel had to fill in for someone at the hospital and should be home soon, but he wasn’t yet. As cheesy as it may be, the bed was too empty without him. He would be back in a half an hour or so – if traffic was decent – and then they’d crawl in together.

He’d moved in with his partner six months ago and in those six months, he’d gotten used to having a sleeping body next to him and half _on_ him. Sam had gotten used to being used as a pillow and really considering murder some nights, when Gabe was getting sick and snored.

Moving in with Gabriel was the only option that they’d had. Sam couldn’t work so he couldn’t pay off his part of the rent and going back home would do him no good. He’d have to drive too far to get to his therapist. After all, who better to handle the medical side of his life than Gabriel.

His therapist hadn’t been too happy about it, but he’d agreed that it was the best for now. Gabriel was enough of a control freak that in the first few weeks, he’d made sure that Sam ate every calorie written down on his meal plan and weigh-ins were secured. Gabriel was controlled enough to make sure to have no extra weights for weigh-ins, that he never lost more than a kilogram or two before reporting it to his psychologist.

It was one of the downsides to having a nurse for a boyfriend and they’d fought over it like there was no tomorrow. Things were better after those first two weeks.

He was never home these days however and that was one of the biggest downsides. Hell, some days Sam didn’t even know if he should bother pouring him a cup of coffee too or if he’d have to rush out. It was all worth it.

 

Sam must have fallen asleep, because when he woke up Gabriel was crouched in front of him, one hand on his shoulder. There was light filtering in through the blinds, but not enough for it to be morning yet.  Last time he’d looked at the clock, it had been three-thirty.

“Hey,” he whispered, blinking his eyes open. “You’re home.”

“Yeah, finally.” Gabriel’s entire posture gave away that he was unhappy with it. “I should have been home two hours ago, but Mosely wanted me to stay longer. Jo was stuck in traffic so she couldn’t make it until four. Did you wait up?” Gabriel’s voice was no louder than his was. “You know you don’t have to.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugged. “I missed you. The bed is cold without you.” Cold had become unpleasant for him again. It was no longer a reminder that he was doing good or burning extra calories, no now it was the devil himself. Gabriel shook his head. In the faint light, Sam swore that he was smiling.

“Come on, let’s go to bed.” Gabriel took him in his arms, as if he weighed nothing and who knew, perhaps he didn’t to his boyfriend. “I can make you breakfast in the morning and we’ll sleep in, huh? What do you think about that?” Sam didn’t answer as he settled himself against Gabriel. He was nice and warm, the best pillow in the entire world. ”Hey, you still up?”

“Hmm,” he mumbled against his shoulder, hiding his face. “Still up.” He really wasn’t. His eyes kept drifting closed the traitors. He _wanted_ to be up, because Gabriel was finally home and they could _finally_ spend some time together. “Am…awake.”

“Already thought so.” He put him down on the blankets. “You’re completely awake, aren’t you?” Sam faintly felt another body settle behind him and arms gently loop around his waist. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he mumbled, before finally, blissfully drifting off completely.

 

**THE END.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, _the end_.  
>  Holy shit people. This is my place to thank you all for being so wonderful about this, for following along with Gabriel's and Sam's story. Thank you. Honestly, I cannot say that enough.  
> A major thank you to everyone who liked this fic, who read along. A thank you to the people who took the time to comment. You people really helped me push through and finish it finally.
> 
> If you'd like to download a pdf version of the fic, you can do so either through AO3 or through [this link](http://www.mediafire.com/view/fi2tlqtry7yb513/Reduced_to_Dust.pdf) (which is the fancy version, with author's notes, soundtrack, cover and a glossary). If you'd like to see what inspired me to write this fic, the inspiration tag is [here](http://stigmmata.tumblr.com/tagged/fic:%20reduced%20to%20dust). Content warnings go for thinspo, bruises and negativity.
> 
> A masterpost for this fic can be found over on [Tumblr](http://buriedsam.tumblr.com/post/137411324116/reduced-to-dust-samgabriel-279k-explicit) and [Livejournal](http://youaregonecas.livejournal.com/14708.html). Thank you again wonderful people. Thank you. ♥


	8. Appendix

**USED TERMS AND DEFINITIONS**

 

  * **Anorexia Nervosa**



_Anorexia Nervosa (short: anorexia) is a psychiatric disorder characterized by an unrealistic fear of weight gain, self-starvation, and conspicuous distortion of body image._

_The individual is obsessed with becoming increasingly thinner and limits food intake to the point where health is compromised. The disorder may be fatal. (x., s.d)_

_The DSM IV (see later) classifies this disorder under;_

  1. _A refusal to maintain body weight at or above a minimally normal weight for age and height (e.g. weight loss leading to a maintenance of body weight less than 85% of that expected, or failure to make expected weight gain during period of growth, leading to body weight less than 85% of that expected)._
  2. _Intense fear of gaining weight or becoming fat, even though underweight._
  3. _Disturbance in the way in which one’s body weight or shape is experienced, undue influence of body weight or shape on self-evaluation, or denial of the seriousness of the current low body weight._
  4. _In postmenarcheal females, amenorrhea, i.e. the absence of at least three or more consecutive menstrual cycles. (A woman is considered to have amenorrhea if her periods occur only following hormone, e.g. oestrogen, administration)._



 

_ Specify type: _

**_Restricting Type_ ** _: during the current episode of Anorexia Nervosa, the person has not regularly engaged in binge-eating or purging behaviour (i.e. self-induced vomiting or the misuse of laxatives, diuretics or enemas)_

**_Binge-Eating/Purging Type:_ ** _during the current episode of Anorexia Nervosa, the person has regularly engaged in binge-eating or purging behaviour (i.e. self induced vomiting or the misuse of laxatives, diuretics or enemas). (eatingdisorders.org.nz, s.d)_

_( Authors note; Sam would likely (as I do not have a degree in psychology yet) fall under a restricting/binge type, a combination of both)._

 

  * **DSM**



_Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders. A manual used by people in the mental health field. Short: DSM. It basically lists what behaviors (could) fall under which psychiatric/psychological disorder.  The most recent version is the DSM V._

 

  * **Ensure**



_Ensure is a nutritional supplement. It is the brand name. Nutritional supplements are often used when treating people with eating disorders to help gain weight._

_Each treatment center and ward handles this differently, but often people who finish less than 50% of their plate have to add a supplement to their snack. Sometimes, when this is dinner, they have to add two. Between 50-75% depends on the clinic._

_The fictional clinic created for Sam has them add two when they eat less than 50% of their dinner, one when they eat either 50-75% of their dinner or less than 50% of their breakfast/lunch._

 

  * **FTM**



_FTM stands for Female to Male. It is used for individuals who were assigned female at birth but identify as male._

 

  * **Self Harm**



_Self-injury, also known as cutting or self-mutilation, occurs when someone intentionally and repeatedly harms herself/himself. The method most often used is cutting but other common behaviors include burning, punching, and drinking something harmful, like bleach or detergent. It’s estimated that about two million people in the U.S. injure themselves in some way.  The majority are teenagers or young adults with young women outnumbering young men. They are of all races and backgrounds. (mentalhealthamerica, s.d)_

 

  * **Transgender**



_An umbrella term for all people and genders that do not match the gender that they were assigned at birth, or which was imposed on them by society, or which they were raised as. (anagnori)_

_Most universally known are trans women and trans men, but the term also leaves room for agender (there is some disagreement on this within the community whether or not an agender person falls under this term, considering they do not identify as any gender on the spectrum), bi gender, trigender, demigender,  genderfluid and other identities._

 

**B I B L I O G R A P H Y**

 

anagnori. (sd). _Glossary of Transgender, Non-Binary and Genderqueer Words._  

anagnori.tumblr.com: http://anagnori.tumblr.com/post/72143410400/glossary-of-transgender-non-binary-and

 

eatingdisorders.org.nz. (s.d). _DSM IV Diagnostic Criteria for Anorexia Nervosa._  

www.eatingdisorders.org.nz: www.eatingdisorders.org.nz

 

mentalhealthamerica. (s.d). _Self Injury._  

mentalhealthamerica.net: http://www.mentalhealthamerica.net/self-injury

 

(s.d). _Anorexia Nervosa._  

medical-dictionary.thefreedictionary.com: http://medical-dictionary.thefreedictionary.com/anorexia+nervosa

 


End file.
